


Until It Sleeps

by DizzyRedhead



Series: Bring On The Rain [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Aftercare, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blood Magic, Cunnilingus, Demon Summoning, Dirty Talk, Empathic Bond, Established Relationship, F/M, Foursome - F/M/M/M, Implied Childhood Sexual Abuse, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Implied/Referenced Victim Blaming, Light Bondage, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Multi, Oral Sex, Polyamory, Sam Winchester's Visions, Subspace, Telepathic Bond, Threesome - F/M/M, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-01
Updated: 2016-07-19
Packaged: 2018-07-19 07:00:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 35,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7350658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DizzyRedhead/pseuds/DizzyRedhead
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam's started having visions again. No one thinks that's a good sign, especially when Metatron goes missing from Heaven's jail, and all signs point to Crowley being behind it. When Claire and the tablets disappear from the bunker, Sam, Dean, and Cas have to figure out how to get to her and stop Crowley's plans before he does something even Lucifer never managed to pull off.</p><p>(should mostly stand alone, but may make more sense if you have read Under The Skin)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Oh, goodness. This has been quite a journey, with a lot of stops and starts along the way. I had a lot of help on this story, including some very generous people who offered to beta-read even though they weren't very familiar with the SPN universe. Enormous thanks to:
> 
> * kuwlshadow for the incredible art!  
> * lady-rougarou for being the first reader and encouraging me to feel that it wasn't complete crap  
> * Aenaria for looking at it when I was feeling insecure even though she wasn't familiar with Supernatural  
> * lola381pce and cant-even-think-of-a-word for encouraging me that there weren't giant plot holes when I was stalled out 3/4ths of the way through and not sure if I could finish  
> * PinkPandoraFrog for reading the entire thing and calling me out on unnecessary commas and egregious overuse of the word "and"  
> * All of the wonderful people who commented on Under the Skin, even long after I originally posted it. You guys are the reason I pushed through to get this thing written. I hope you enjoy it!
> 
> This fic is completely drafted and will post one chapter per day until completed. Tags will be updated with each chapter

_The demons form a loose ring around the teenage girl, leaving gaps between them that a stupid person might think offered a chance of escape. She knows better; her eyes dart toward the openings, but she makes no attempt to run, turning slowly in a futile attempt to keep them from getting behind her._

_The demons stop moving closer, and hope flares in her eyes for a moment, only to die when the two in front of her step aside to allow someone else to pass through._

_He is shorter than the demons that have been hounding her, rather unremarkable looking, his dark hair and beard echoed in the black of his rather natty suit. His eyes, unlike those of the demons, are a rather ordinary hazel color. The girl does not look reassured._

_She stands her ground as he strolls toward her, chin lifted defiantly, but he only smiles._

_"Hello, sweetheart," he says softly. "You're going to help me find someone I've been looking for for quite some time."_

_She shakes her head wordlessly, and his smile widens. "Oh, I think you will, love."_

_She shudders as his eyes bleed red._

* * *

Sam sat bolt upright in their enormous bed, surprised to see the familiar brick and concrete walls of the bunker, gasping for breath like he'd just sprinted a mile. Dean and Cas each had a hand gripping his shoulders, one on either side of him in the bed, and Claire was wrapped around him like a blanket, maybe because the blankets were in a tangled mess at the foot of the bed. They were all staring at him, eyes wide and terrified.

"What?" he snapped, starting to shake.

"Dude, you were screaming," Dean said flatly. "Full-on bloodcurdling horror movie screaming."

Claire tightened her grip. "We couldn't wake you up," she mumbled into his chest. "Even Cas couldn't--"

"I _wouldn't_ ," the angel corrected. "You were not asleep, but in some sort of trance. I felt it would be unwise to bring you out of it before it ended normally."

Sam scrubbed his hands roughly over his face. "It's back," he said flatly, meeting Dean's eyes. "I had a vision."


	2. Human

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Neither Sam or Dean is happy about the vision.

"I don't know who she was, but Crowley's got her," Sam finished, wrapping his hands around his coffee mug. "Or will have her. I don't know if it's happened yet or not."

"Not much to go on," Dean said, half to himself. "White girl, brown hair."

"I _know_ , Dean," Sam snapped back. "I couldn't control it. I didn't see anything else that would help us figure it out."

Claire rubbed a soothing hand between his shoulderblades. "Crowley said she'd help him find someone?"

"Yeah," Sam said, leaning in to her touch. "No idea who, he didn't say."

Cas frowned. "Crowley has been suspiciously quiet lately. I suspect we won't like whatever he's up to."

"Gee, ya think?" Dean rolled his eyes and turned to leave the library. "We've got nothing to go on and no idea what's going to happen, or when, or where. I'm gonna make breakfast."

Sam slumped back into his chair as soon as Dean left the room, tension draining out of him. Claire frowned at the back of his head for a moment, then climbed into his lap, wrapping her arms around him. "Talk to me," she murmured.

Sam shrugged. "I told you guys everything," he mumbled.

She pulled back a little to look at him, but he refused to meet her eyes. "Sam," she said firmly, "you and Dean are both acting like you're ten and about to start rolling around on the ground throwing punches. What am I missing here?"

Sam sighed. "I'm having the visions again," he said, like that was enough to explain why they were at each other's throats.

"I'm sorry, could we try that again for those of us who aren't fluent in Winchester?" Claire asked. Behind her, she could hear Cas's muffled snort.

"I started having the visions in the first place because of Azazel and the demon blood," Sam explained. "Dean's… he doesn't like remembering that. Plus, he's probably worried that I'm gonna get hooked on demon blood again."

"So, in typical Dean fashion, he's being a surly asshole because he's worried," Claire summarized.

"Yeah," Sam sighed. "And he doesn't like being reminded that there's a bit of me that's not human."

"That is not true," Cas interrupted.

Sam huffed a little. "Yeah, it is, Cas. He hates it."

"No, that's not what I meant," Cas persisted. "There is no part of you that is not fully human, Sam."

Claire felt Sam stiffen under her, pulling back a little to look over her head at Cas. "The only reason I had the visions, the abilities, is because of Azazel. Because of what he did to me and the others."

“The demon blood awakened the abilities, it strengthened them,” Cas said. “But Azazel specifically targeted each of you, probably because you already had the potential.”

Sam’s forehead furrowed. “But...you said I was fully human.”

“You are,” Cas insisted. “Humans have the potential for many such abilities. Few unlock that potential, and fewer still take the time and effort to master them. Demon blood is… a shortcut. It opens those connections wide, but it also removes the safeguards the brain puts in place to protect itself.”

Sam collapsed into Claire, burying his face in her neck. She tightened her arms around him reflexively, feeling him shake against her. She looked up to see Dean standing in the doorway from the kitchen, looking more stunned than she’d ever seen him.

Dean broke free of whatever epiphany he’d just had and put a hand on Sam’s shoulder. “It’s okay, Sammy,” he said roughly. “You’re okay.”

After a few minutes, Sam lifted his head a took a few watery breaths. “Not gonna hunt me then?” he joked weakly.

Dean smacked Sam lightly in the back of the head. “Bitch.”

Sam’s smile was watery but genuine. “Jerk.”

* * *

By common consent they ignored the issue of Sam’s vision and kept the conversation to more neutral topics during breakfast. They had almost finished demolishing the pancakes, bacon, and eggs that Dean had cooked when Cas sat bolt upright, his head cocked as though he were listening, his eyes widening.

“I have to go,” he announced abruptly, standing up from the table.

“Whoa, Cas, where’s the fire?” Dean asked.

Cas paused, turning back toward him. “Metatron has escaped,” he said simply.

“Escaped?” Sam said incredulously.

“How the fuck do you escape from heaven’s jail?” Dean asked at the same time.

Cas scowled. “I don’t know, but I suspect he had help. I told you before that Heaven is not fully secure. Crowley used the confusion caused by Metatron’s schemes to find angels that he could… manipulate. Many of them had no idea that the information they were passing along was going to the King of Hell. We found several and stopped them, but I’m sure there are others.”

“But why would Crowley want to help Metatron?” Claire said.

Cas shrugged. “Why does Crowley do anything? He benefited from Metatron’s plans in the past, perhaps he thinks he can do so again. No matter what his reasoning, though, Metatron is too dangerous to be allowed to roam free. I must join the hunt.”

“Need any help?” Dean asked. “We don’t have anything going on at the moment.”

Cas’s eyes softened. “I appreciate the offer, and I may call upon you, but for now I’m not sure where you could be most effective. There is only a limited amount of information that can be conveyed over ‘angel radio.’ I will have to return to Heaven for the full story.”

“Call us if you need us,” Sam said firmly, and Dean nodded.

“I will,” Cas promised, and then he was gone.

Claire shivered a little. “I will never, ever get used to that.”

Dean grinned. “Give it time.”

* * *

 

“Any luck?” Claire asked, glancing over at Sam’s computer screen.

He groaned, rubbing his eyes. “Do you have any idea how many brunette Caucasian teenage girls go missing every day in this country? Especially when you don’t have a geographic area to narrow it down to?”

“I’m guessing a lot,” she said sympathetically.

“Thousands,” he said flatly. “Some days tens of thousands. They walk out of school, walk down the street, and just disappear. And that’s just the ones who have people who care enough to file a missing persons report. What if she doesn’t? It’s not even a needle in a haystack. It’s a speck of dust that may or may not be in this particular haystack.”

“Maybe you’ll have another vision that’ll narrow it down?” she offered.

He sighed. “Yeah, maybe. How’re you doing?”

“Well, the bad news is that I hate accounting software and it hates me,” she said. “The good news is that we’re making enough money that I’m pretty sure we can afford to hire an accountant instead of having me do it.”

Sam blinked. “Really?”

“Yup,” Claire said proudly. “SDW Enterprises is turning a profit. Not just a little profit, either. If this continues, you guys’ll be able to actually pay your own credit card bills, start saving for retirement, and so on. Living the capitalist dream.”

“Wow,” he said slowly. “I’m having trouble believing it.”

She smiled. “Believe it. This library is a treasure trove. All we had to do was digitize it and we had libraries and universities knocking down our door.”

“All we had to do,” he scoffed. “You say that like it wasn’t all you doing the work. And like it didn’t take you over a year.”

“But now it’s done! And we’re reaping all the benefits,” she said with her best evil laugh. “But there is something else I wanted to show you. Hand me your phone.”

Sam dug his phone out of his pocket and handed it over. Claire plugged it into the cord connected to her computer, and went back and forth between the computer and the phone, clicking, tapping, swiping.

He watched her work for a few minutes before clearing his throat. “Am I supposed to understand what’s happening here?”

She held up a finger, typing with her other hand. “All will be revealed in time.”

Sam settled back into his chair, arms folded across his chest, and watched her work. Dean came in and shot Sam a raised-eyebrows look, to which Sam responded with a shrug.

“Two minutes,” Claire announced. “And I can _hear_ it when you guys do that. Cut it out.”

Dean lifted his hands in surrender and dropped into the chair next to Sam. Claire tapped a few more things into the phone, then disconnected it from the cord and handed it to Sam. “Et voila!” she said.

He looked down at the screen. “Hunter’s Encyclopedia,” he read. “What’s this?”

“Well, you know how I scanned all the stuff from the library and made the database, which is now starting to make us big piles of money?” she said. “Regular people just think it’s a mythology and folklore collection, which it is. But while I was at it, I scanned all the magic texts, too, and whatever else we weren’t going to give the public, just so I could have them in digital format, ‘cause it makes searching way easier. And then we had extra server space, so I copied the database and added all the restricted stuff, just encrypted and password protected. I figured it’d be handy for you to have access if you were out of the bunker, you wouldn’t have to call me to look something up, so I had Charlie code the app. It took us awhile, but it’s finally up and running.”

Sam tapped the blue “Monster” button. The app offered him a search box that said “Type search terms here”. He thought for a moment and typed in “Missing hearts.” The app presented him with a spinning anti-possession symbol, then loaded a list of links: Werewolf, Succubus, Daevas, Maenad. Tapping the “Werewolf” link loaded another page that included how to kill them and more information about them.

“You did all this?” Dean asked, looking over Sam’s shoulder.

Claire shrugged, faking nonchalance. “Charlie did the app.”

Sam hit the home button and then the other button on the app’s main screen, a red one labeled “Spells”. This time he had a search box or a drop-down menu that said “Spell type.” He tapped it and scrolled through the list. “This is incredible,” he said, finally looking up. “It’s like having the entire bunker library with us when we’re on the road.”

“Well, it’ll only work if you have data--”

“Which, thanks to Charlie souping up our phones, we pretty much always do,” Dean interrupted. “This is the best thing anybody’s ever done for us.”

Claire cocked her head to the side. “I thought you said that thing I did last week with my tongue was the best thing anybody ever did for you.”

Dean looked momentarily torn, and she took advantage of his distraction to pull his phone away and start installing the app for him.

An hour later, when both of them were still playing with the app, she sent Charlie a picture and a text. _I’m not sure this was such a good idea_...

 _Boys and their toys,_ Charlie sent back. _Just take off your shirt, you’ll get their attention._

 _You have the best ideas,_ Claire replied before setting her phone aside. She stood up and started to walk down the hall toward the bedrooms, unbuttoning her shirt as she went. By the time she dropped her shirt on the floor, she was smiling as she heard booted footsteps behind her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, my librarian is showing, but seriously, that library is amazing and some days I'm not sure if I lust after it or the boys more. I couldn't resist.
> 
> Also, I am not at all certain on the numbers for teens going missing; I just pulled that out of thin air. Feel free to correct me if I'm wrong.


	3. Pretty Things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Claire distracts Sam and Dean. With sex. That's it, that's the chapter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Very NSFW. Not recommended for reading in public unless you have achieved at least a Level 1 Smut Reading Poker Face.
> 
> Tags have been updated to reflect content, please read carefully and consider your own triggers and mental health. This chapter contains basically no plot, so feel free to skip if the smut's not your thing.

"Lose something?" Dean rumbled from the door of the bedroom. 

Claire looked back over her shoulder to see her discarded shirt dangling from his fingertips. "Sure seems that way," she said, kicking off her shoes. 

"Trying to get our attention?" Sam asked, following Dean into the room and closing the door. "All you had to do was ask, baby."

She sat down on the side of the bed and smirked up at them. "Yeah, but this way's more fun."

Dean dropped her shirt and prowled across the room until he could drop to his knees in front of her. "Not complaining," he said, his eyes falling to her breasts. "New bra?"

Claire shrugged, smiling a little as both men's eyes followed the movement of her chest. "I like pretty things."

"Me, too," Dean said, grinning wickedly and leaning forward to trace the edge of multicolored lace with his tongue, down into the valley between her breasts and up the other side before sitting back. "You should keep it on."

She shivered at the wash of cold air across wet skin, and Dean's gaze sharpened. "Awww, have we been neglecting you, sweetheart?" he murmured, threading his fingers through her hair and tugging gently, and she shuddered again, unable to answer as the sensations sparked across her skin. 

"I think we have," Sam answered him as he stripped out of his clothes. The bed dipped slightly as he climbed up behind Claire, pulling her back against him and pinning her hands gently but firmly to the mattress. "We should probably do something about that."

"I think you're right," Dean said, crawling up her body, lithe muscle flexing in his arms and chest, and licking into her mouth.

Between Sam's grip on her wrists and Dean's weight on top of her, she was well and truly pinned, helpless to do anything other than sink back against Sam's comforting warmth, melt under Dean's slow, sumptuous kisses. 

She whimpered a little when the warmth of Dean's mouth moved away from hers, leaving a slow, deliberate trail of kisses down her throat and across her collarbone. Her head fell back onto Sam's shoulder as Dean kissed his way down her chest. He looked up at her from under his lashes as he closed his mouth over her nipple, the fabric of her bra first rubbing against her sensitive skin, then clinging to it as it grew wetter.

He lingered over her breasts for what felt like forever, using his hands and his mouth while Sam murmured filthy promises in her ear, his hold on her wrists never faltering. Finally, when she was reduced to almost-incoherent begging, he sat up to pull his shirt off and licked his way down her stomach, peeling her jeans and panties down her legs and tossing them to the floor before settling in between her legs and nuzzling his face into her pussy.

Claire arched up at the first touch of Dean's tongue on her clit, straining helplessly against Sam's implacable grip. She came almost immediately, shuddering between them, but Dean was relentless, working her up again with lips and teeth and tongue until she was writhing, gasping, begging, and he finally curled his fingers inside her pussy and fastened his mouth over her clit until she came screaming.

Sam let go of her wrists to stroke his hands soothingly up and down her arms. "There you go, baby," he said softly. "We're gonna take good care of you."

"That's right," Dean agreed, dropping his jeans and boxers on the floor before climbing back onto the bed. He pushed inside her in one long, slick stroke, and she lifted her hips to meet him, wrapping her legs around his waist. He leaned down to kiss her again, thrusting gently, and she shuddered between them as the change in angle had him grinding against her clit. She felt him smile against her mouth as he did it again.

Behind her, Sam started rolling his hips, the hard line of his cock trapped between her back and his belly, and slid his hands up until they were cupping her breasts, rubbing his thumbs across her nipples. The friction of still-damp fabric combined with Dean grinding against her clit and the thick length of his cock inside her had her coming again, mouth opened in a silent scream. 

Dean fucked her through it with steady strokes, capturing her mouth for a long, sumptuous kiss. When she stopped shaking, he sat up and lifted her legs to his shoulders, sliding his hands under her hips and holding her at the angle he wanted. He fucked her harder, his cock hitting her g-spot with every thrust, forcing helpless little whimpers and moans out of her.

“That’s it, baby,” Sam rasped in her ear, still grinding up against her back, his fingers teasing her nipples, almost enough but not quite. “Love you like this, so fucking gorgeous when you come for us.”

Claire tossed her head back, the sensation so intense that it was almost frightening, like she didn’t know what was going to happen. Sam squeezed her nipples and Dean growled “Come again. Come for us,” and she did. 

Dean kept moving through her orgasm, his rhythm stuttering as she tightened around him. He thrust impossibly deep inside her one more time and froze over her, shuddering as he came. 

When Dean pulled out and dropped to the bed beside them, Sam surged up, flipping them over so that Claire was under him, wrapping his big hands around her waist and pushing inside her with one fast, rough stroke. She dropped her forehead to the pillow and tried to just hold on as Sam fucked her hard and fast and just the right side of punishing.

One of Sam’s hands left her waist, and that was all the warning she got before he was wrapping his hand in her hair and pulling her head up. She couldn’t stop the little involuntary cry she let out, but Sam only fucked her harder.

“You like that,” he growled, never slowing. “You like letting us do whatever we want, don’t you?”

“Yes,” Claire gasped, finally forcing the word out through the strange disconnect between her brain and her vocal cords.

Sam’s hand tightened on her waist. The solid, muscled warmth of him loomed over her, and she all but melted into the bed, surrounded by him in the best possible way. Each thrust of his cock into her pussy, every flex of his hand on her waist, every tug of his fingers in her hair sent sensation racing over her skin, every inch of her sensitized to his touch.

“Always so good for us,” Sam said, his breath coming shorter. “Come for me one more time, baby.”

Claire shook her head a little, not in denial, but he tightened his grip in her hair and angled her hips just perfectly and she was coming again, sobbing for breath against the pillow. Sam thrust once, twice more and stilled, his hand on her waist tightening reflexively before he was aware enough to loosen his grip.

Once Sam slipped out of her, sinking into the bed on her other side, Claire sagged into the mattress. She could feel two sets of familiar hands smoothing over her skin, one from either side, and if she’d had even the slightest inclination to move she would’ve arched up into their touch. As it was, she thought with a few minutes more to recover, she could be persuaded to purr.

“You should take your shirt off more often,” Dean said, his voice as lazy as the trail he was tracing across her skin.

“Definitely,” Sam agreed, his voice muffled by the arm he’d thrown over his face. “And wear that bra. You should always be wearing that bra.”

Claire rolled to her back, the boob squishage becoming too much of a pain to ignore. “Nah, I don’t think so. If I take my shirt off every time I want to get your attention, and then we end up having sex, it’s like I’m rewarding you for not paying attention. That’s not a habit I want you to continue.”

“Aww…”

“But…”

She smiled up at the ceiling. “Maybe I’ll start taking it off when you do the dishes, or pick up your underwear off the floor.”

“Strip chores?” Dean’s whole face brightened. “I’m in!”

Sam snorted. “Why am I not surprised?”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Like you’re not.”

Claire put a hand over each of their mouths. “If you guys go into that whole ‘bitch’ ‘jerk’ routine, I swear neither of you is getting laid for a month. That was cute the first few times, but there’s a time and a place. Got it?”

They nodded in unison, and she rolled her eyes, but removed her hands. “Good.”


	4. Always

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another vision leaves them no closer to figuring out what's going on with Crowley; in the meantime, Dean finds a case and Claire provides backup.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tags have been updated to reflect possibly triggering content. As always, please consider your own mental health when reading.

_ The girl looks up as the door to her cell swings silently open. Crowley strolls in, giving the room a leisurely perusal before turning his attention to the girl where she sits on the pallet against the wall. _

_ "Hello, love," he says. "Sorry I've left you to your own devices for so long, but some things came up that I just had to attend to. You know how it is, I'm sure." _

_ She doesn't respond, trying for insolence, but his eyes catch the way she presses her back against the wall, the way she shrinks away when he paces too close. _

_ "Oh, you don't have to worry about that with me, love," he drawls, stepping back a bit. "You're not really my type. I prefer my women a bit more...adult. That's not why you're here at all." _

_ "Then why am I here?" she asks, clamping her mouth shut on the last word. _

_ Crowley smiles. "You're bait," he says, dropping his voice to a confiding tone.  _

_ She slumps back against the wall with a humorless laugh. "You got the wrong girl, then. Haven't been a virgin for a good eight years." _

_ "Yeah, Daddy took care of that," Crowley says matter-of-factly. "Although you'd be surprised what some nice not-a-virgin bait could catch me. But that's not what this is about. This is about your sister." _

_ "I don't know where she is," the girl says. "I'm no good to you." _

_ "Oh, I know where she is," Crowley confides. "The trick is getting her to come to where I can get her. And that, my dear, is where you come in." He squats down next to the pallet and holds out a cell phone. "All you have to do is make the call." _

_ The girl looks at him. "And if I don't?" _

_ He shrugs. "You will, eventually. This is Hell, love. We know what you fear, we know what to do, how to make you willing to do anything to make it stop." He lowers his voice. "We know how to make you like it." _

_ The girl stares at him for a long moment before she takes the phone in trembling hands. _

* * *

Sam opened his eyes to find that he was shaking--tiny, uncontrollable tremors vibrating through his body. Claire watched him from the next pillow, her eyes wide and a little sad. When she saw that he was awake, she scooted closer, wrapping herself around him. Sam let himself cling, let her warmth ease the tension in his muscles until the shakes finally stopped.

"Another vision?" she asked.

He nodded. "The same girl. Crowley still has her. Or will still have her. Ugh."

She threaded her fingers through his hair, massaging his scalp. He sighed and relaxed into her touch, trying to let go of the fear. "I hate this," he admitted, closing his eyes. "I hate the visions. I hate not knowing how to help. I don't know if this has already happened, and there's nothing we can do, or if it's happening now, or if it's going to happen in the future."

"Was it like this before?" she asked. "I remember that you had the visions, but not a lot of detail."

"Kind of," he said. "When they first started, I thought they were nightmares. I thought my subconscious was punishing me for leaving Dean and trying to live a normal life, so it made me dream about my girlfriend dying the same way my mom did." He shook his head. "Turns out my life is a lot more fucked up than that."

Claire was silent for a moment. "Did you see or hear anything new this time? Anything that could help us identify the girl?"

Sam shook his head again. "Some new stuff, but I don't think anything that'll help. Crowley's got her in Hell, he said that. He's using her as bait for her sister, but neither of them said a name, and Crowley didn't say what he wanted her for..."

She waited for a few moments after his voice trailed off. "And?" she finally prompted.

His mouth twisted. "And, the girl is probably a runaway. From what Crowley said, her dad molested her."

Claire made a gut-punched noise, and this time it was Sam who tightened his arms around her, offering what comfort he could.

"We can't save everybody," she said finally, her voice barely audible.

"I know," he said, equally soft.

* * *

Sam caught the rolled-up newspaper seconds before it smacked into his face. 

Dean grinned unrepentantly at him from across the library table. "Nice catch, Sammy."

"What am I looking at?" Sam asked as he unrolled the newspaper. "Oh. Never mind."

_ GRUESOME CRUISE SHIP MURDERS _ ! the headline proclaimed.  _ POLICE BAFFLED BY LOCKED DOOR MYSTERY _

Sam scanned the article, Claire reading over his shoulder. He reached the end and looked up. "Spirit?" 

"Sure looks that way," Dean agreed cheerfully. "I don't know about you, but I think it's just sad we've never been on a cruise. We should fix that."

"Cruises cost money," Sam pointed out. "Especially if you're booking them at the last minute."

"What's your cover this time?" Claire asked. "FBI?"

"Probably easiest," Dean said. "Why?"

She smirked. "Patience, grasshopper." 

Both men watched, bemused, as she went to a nearby shelf, removed several books, and muttered something under her breath. A hidden panel in the back of the bookcase swung open, revealing a safe. She input the combination and opened the door, pulling out a metal box, then closed it again and replaced the books before bringing the box to the table.

"We have definitely been leaving you alone in here too much," Sam said, his voice warm and amused."

"Shush, you," she said, opening the box and flipping through the dozens of cards lined up neatly inside. She made a considering noise, then pulled out two laminated ID badges and two credit cards. She closed the box and slid the cards across the table toward Sam and Dean.

"You know, we do already have FBI badges--" Dean said.

"--but these are way better quality," Sam broke in, turning the laminated card over in his hands. "They might actually pass inspection by someone who knows what they're looking for."

"That's the idea," Claire said. "You needed badges that don't look like you made them at Kinkos. Charlie called in some favors and did some hacking, so if anyone tries to run a computer check on you two, you'll show up as legit. And if they try to make an old-fashioned phone call, you can give them these business cards that go to the phone here and I'll take care of it."

"Charlie hacked the FBI?" Dean asked incredulously.

Claire shrugged. "What, like it's hard? Well, for Charlie, anyway."

"What's the deal with the credit cards?" Sam asked, picking his up. It looked like a normal credit card, except where a person's name would usually be, it said "Agent Expense Card 837".

"Agents wouldn't pay for expenses out of their own pockets," Claire said. "I can probably call and get you a room on the ship by saying that the FBI is spending agents to investigate, but if you're pulling out cash or a personal credit card, it's going to be a red flag. Since you'll be stuck on a ship in the middle of the ocean, you should probably avoid those."

Dean grabbed her hand from where she was reorganizing the remaining contents of the box and pulled her into his lap for a kiss. "Thanks for having our back," he said gruffly.

"Always," she said, laying her head on his shoulder.


	5. Let Me Go

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which some things become more clear, and Claire leaves the bunker.

Claire’s phone vibrated across the library table as it rang. She scooped it up without looking, swiping across the screen and tucking it between her ear and her shoulder so she could use both hands to type. “Hello?”

“Claire?” a voice said shakily. “It’s Mandy. I… I’m sorry. I need your help.”

Claire straightened in her chair, barely managing to catch the phone before it hit the floor. “Mandy? What’s wrong? What do you need?”

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I didn’t want to, I’m sorry…” Her sister’s voice on the other end of the line was almost unintelligible, clogged with tears and barely above a whisper.

“Hey, baby, it’s okay,” Claire soothed automatically. “Don’t worry, just tell me. Do you need money? Are you safe?”

“Well, that’s entirely up to you,” purred a man’s British-accented voice from the phone. “Your sister is just fine right now, exactly as I found her. Whether she stays that way…”

The plastic of the phone case creaked under Claire’s hand until she forced herself to loosen her grip. “Who is this?” she snapped.

“Oh, I go by many names,” the man said. “But the one you’ll probably recognize is Crowley.” He let out a satisfied little hum at her sharp intake of breath. 

“What does the King of Hell want with my little sister?” Claire asked, her voice as level as she could make it.

Crowley laughed. “Not a bloody thing, love. Not that she couldn’t make an interesting plaything with the proper training, but really, damaged teenage girls are even cheaper than a dime a dozen these days. It’s a buyer’s market. You, on the other hand… you I’m interested in. So maybe we can work a little exchange?”

“What do you want me to do?” 

“So many things. The mind boggles, really.” Crowley paused, but when no response was forthcoming, he continued. “Just at the moment, though, I want you to leave the Winchesters’ little clubhouse and drive to Lincoln. Once you’re there, I’ll call with further instructions. Oh, and bring the tablets with you while you’re at it.”

Claire sucked in a breath through her teeth. “And if I don’t?”

“If you don’t,” Crowley said slowly, “then I turn your precious little sister over to some of my people for their entertainment. By the time they’re done with her, she’ll think being Daddy Dearest’s little plaything was the best time of her life. If she’s still able to think.”

“It’ll take me about three hours to get to Lincoln,” Claire said, forcing her fists to unclench as she stood up from her chair and headed toward the bedroom.

Crowley laughed. “I know that, love. You think I don’t know exactly where you are? I just needed the right bait to get you to come out from behind the castle walls. Don’t dawdle over your packing.”

“Fine,” Claire gritted out. “But I want to talk to Mandy again first.”

“As you wish,” Crowley said.

There was silence on the phone for a moment, then Mandy’s breath was sobbing down the line. “I’m sorry, Claire, I’m sorry, I didn’t know--”

“Shhh,” Claire said. “Shhh, it’s okay, honey. I’m coming, okay? It’s going to be okay. I promise.”

“O-okay,” Mandy said, then gasped in a breath.

“How touching,” Crowley said, his voice dripping with disdain. “I forgot to say, if you were thinking of leaving the Winchesters a nice little note explaining what’s going on, I’d really prefer you didn’t.”

“Gee, really?” Claire said. “Well, since you asked so nicely, I guess I’ll go traipsing off without telling anyone where I’m going.”

“You’d better, if you like your sister with her sanity intact,” Crowley said. “Don’t underestimate me, girl. You think I haven’t been watching? Leave Moose and Squirrel something, but make it seem like you got bored with them and left, or I’ll wait until you get here to throw little Mandy in the Pit so you can watch. And I’m sure a clever girl like you can find a way to keep the archangel on your shoulder from popping in to visit. But if not, I have some very special spells I’ve been just dying to try out.”

Claire froze mid-step. “If you want me to block Castiel before I leave, it’s going to be more like four hours.”

“I’ll be counting the minutes,” Crowley said.

Claire stood in the hall, the beep of the call disconnecting ringing in her ears. She allowed herself three deep breaths in and out before she squared her shoulders and started to move.

* * *

Sam was running out of ideas for what could be anchoring the spirit to the cruise ship. Hell, they weren’t even sure they had correctly identified who the spirit used to be, but they only had one more night before the ship came into port.

The spirit banged open the porthole in their microscopic stateroom. Sam gripped the iron crowbar tightly and Dean cocked the shotgun as the salt line across the windowsill eroded in the wind.

Just as the spirit came roaring in through the window, Cas materialized in the six inches of space between the beds (or berths, what the fuck ever). The spirit, whoever it might be, recoiled from him with an ear-splitting screech. Cas waved a hand negligently without even looking in its direction and it went up in flames.

“Nice party trick, Cas,” Dean said, lowering the shotgun.

“Thanks,” Sam added. “I didn’t think we were ever going to be able to get rid of it.”

“There’s no time,” Cas said urgently. “Claire is gone.”

Both men blinked at him in confusion. “Gone?” Sam asked. “Gone where?”

“I don’t know!” Cas threw his hands up in the air.

“Wait,” Dean said. “I thought you always know what’s going on with her, that whole archangel-prophet connection thingy?”

“Normally, yes,” Cas answered. “But Claire must have discovered a way to block me. The last thing I saw was her putting together the ingredients for some sort of spell, and then… nothing. It’s like someone turned off that ‘channel’ and I can’t get it back.”

“Maybe she was just testing the spell,” Sam suggested. “Did you check the bunker?”

Cas nodded. “That was my first thought as well. She’s gone. There is no one at the bunker.”

Sam and Dean shared a worried glance.

“Let’s go,” Dean said.

* * *

They blinked into existence in the bunker library. Sam could tell instantly that Cas was correct; there was no music playing from the speakers Claire had scattered throughout the bunker, no scent of food lingering over the library tables where she liked to eat, no clinking of weights from the room she’d appropriated for her gym. The whole place felt empty, eerie in the way that uninhabited spaces were.

“Her computer’s gone,” Dean said gruffly. “Check her room.”

Sam turned wordlessly down the hall, trying hard not to think until he got to the room where Claire stored her clothes and retreated when she wanted to be alone. He half expected to see her curled up in the overstuffed armchair, smiling up at him over a book and lifting her face for a kiss. When he swung the door open, though, the room was as empty as all the others. Sam made a brief, comprehensive scan of the room, scooped up the note lying on top of the pillow, and turned back toward the library.

“Anything?” Dean asked.

“About half of her clothes are gone,” Sam said quietly, holding out the small sheet of paper. “And this.”

“The hell?” Dean asked, his eyes flicking over the short note.

“‘Sammy, let me go,’” Cas read aloud. “‘Don’t add flower petals.’”

“Seriously, what the fuck?” Dean said. “Since when does she call you Sammy? And what do flower petals have to do with anything?”

“Remember that time last year when you ended up with butterflies flying around your head while you were cooking?” Sam asked, smiling despite himself. 

Dean rolled his eyes. “Yeah, as I recall you never explained that one because you were too busy cackling. What does that have to do with anything?”

“She’d found a tracking spell that said to add flower petals for visual confirmation,” Sam explained. “So we tried it out on you to see what it did.”

“But her note says not to add the petals,” Cas said slowly. “So she wants us to track her, but she doesn’t want other people to know. But what about the first part?”

“The first part is exactly the same as the one that Dean left me--”

“--when I ran off with Crowley,” Dean said, realization dawning in his eyes. “Crowley’s got her.”

Sam shook his head. “It makes no sense, though. Why would she leave? The bunker’s proof against just about anything; why wouldn’t she just stay in here until we got back?”

Cas frowned. “Crowley must have found a way to convince her to come out. But why wouldn’t she just say so in her note?”

“She must have thought he’d have some way to know.” Dean sagged into his chair. “I wish I knew what kind of leverage he had.”

“Does it matter?” Sam asked. “We’re gonna get her back.”

“Damn straight,” Dean growled, and Cas nodded in agreement.

Silence fell.

“How?” Dean asked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A big thank you to those who are reading, subscribing, and especially leaving comments. I was a little afraid that I'd waited so long to write this that no one would notice or care. 
> 
> *snuggles up dragon-style on a hoard of kudos and comments*


	6. Hell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Claire goes to Hell and the boys search for her

Claire’s phone rang just as traffic started to thicken on the outskirts of Lincoln. She swiped the screen and left it on speakerphone so she’d have both hands for the wheel. “What?” she snapped.

"Now, that wasn't very polite, was it?" Crowley's voice chided. "How's it coming, then?"

"Well, I'm almost to Lincoln, assuming one of these  _ assholes _ doesn't smear me across the pavement first," she snarled, leaning on the horn as a massive pickup truck started to change lanes in front of her. "Oh, no you don't you fucker. I will find you and shove that truck so far up your ass--"

"Better watch that road rage, sweetheart," Crowley said. "Can't be good for the blood pressure."

Claire rolled her eyes. “Like you care.”

“Just protecting my investment,” he said. “Pull in to the next gas station.”

“Fine,” she growled, checking her blind spot and moving over one agonizing lane change at a time until she could exit and park at the “Travel Plaza” that was so big and brightly lit they could probably see it from space. “Alright, I’m here.”

“Turn off the engine and step out of the car,” Crowley’s voice said in her ear. “I’ll be with you shortly.”

As soon as she closed the car door behind her, she heard a familiar voice, both from behind her and in a weird stereo effect through her phone. “Ah, a prophet who can follow instructions. How refreshing.”

She ended the call and turned slowly, well aware that her composure was one of the few weapons she had at her disposal. Her first look at the King of Hell was somewhat anticlimactic. He looked much as Sam and Dean had described him; slightly below average height for a man, but impeccably groomed in a dark suit and tie. He was flanked by what were at first glance more intimidating physical specimens, two hulking demons in suits, but somehow the eye always came to Crowley first.

“The tablets?” he asked with a raised eyebrow.

“In the trunk,” she answered shortly. 

He held out a hand for the keys and tossed them to Demon Number One, who cracked the trunk and pulled out the spelled case she’d left there, handing it carefully to his boss.

“My suitcase is in there, too,” Claire said sweetly, keeping her eyes on Crowley’s. “Can he get that? Or does he not do bags?”

The demon hesitated, and Crowley sighed and snapped his fingers. The case disappeared and he dusted his hands off ostentatiously. “Your bags will be waiting for you when you reach your new accommodations.”

She shrugged. “Whatever.”

“One last thing before we go, though.” He held out a hand. “Phone?”

Claire sighed and handed it over. He snapped his fingers again and smiled. “That should lead those two on a fun little chase before they find it. Shall we go?”

“It’s your show,” Claire pointed out.

“Indeed it is,” he said.

Between one blink and the next, the world changed around them. Instead of a sunlit truck stop in Nebraska, they were in a medieval-looking room dimly lit by flickering torches. Crowley sat down on a throne-like chair and steepled his fingers. “Well, now. My very own prophet. I’ve been trying to make you a job offer for some time now, but Moose and Squirrel kept blocking me. I’m sorry I had to resort to these measures--”

“Speaking of the measures you had to resort to,” Claire interrupted, “I’d like to see my sister now.”

His face became briefly thunderous and then smoothed out again. “Of course, of course.” He clapped his hands and two more demons entered the room. “Please show Ms. Ryan--”

“Doctor _ , _ ” she interrupted again, smiling sweetly.

He visibly ground his teeth and Claire added a point to her side of the mental scorecard. “Please show  _ Doctor _ Ryan to her sister,” he resumed with exaggeratedly insincere politeness. 

“Thank you,” she said with equal insincerity.

“Not at all,” he said expansively, settling back in his chair. “We’ll talk more about your time here later.”

Claire kept her face serene as the demons escorted her down the hall.  _ C’mon, guys, _ she thought fiercely.  _ I’m going to keep trying, but you’ve got to meet me halfway. _

* * *

“Gotcha!” Sam yelled.

Dean looked up from the ingredients he was grinding in the oversized mortar. “Her phone?”

“Yeah. It’s a little outside of Denver. Cas, can you check it out?” Sam asked.

The rustling of wings and inrushing of displaced air as Cas disappeared was their answer. A few moments later he reappeared and dropped Claire’s phone in the middle of the table with an expression of disgust.

“No luck?” Dean asked, even though the answer was obvious. 

“The phone was in a cage full of chickens,” Cas reported. “One of many cages, all on a truck. Chickens are very stupid animals. And also full of feces.”

“Most animals are,” Sam said absently, looking at the phone without touching it. “I don’t see any shit on it.”

“I left it behind,” Cas said, his tone implying that this was obvious. “But I think we should get her a different phone.”

“If we ever fucking find her,” Dean growled. “The tracking spell didn’t work, the archangel channel’s blocked. We know where she is. She’s with fucking Crowley. By now he’s got her so deep in Hell it’d take a small army to get her out.”

Cas frowned. “I could probably raise a small army of angels. For the kidnapping of a prophet, there are many who would lay siege to Hell. But the amount of power it would take to fight our way in would have negative consequences here on Earth.”

“What kind of negative consequences?” Sam asked, looking hopeful. 

“The last time such a war was waged, it separated the continents,” Cas answered, and Sam’s shoulders slumped. “With the current level of human population density, I would estimate a death toll of at least thirty percent, perhaps more, depending on where the fault lines fall.”

“Not like L.A. would be any great loss,” Dean joked half-heartedly, but he shared a glance with Sam and knew they were thinking the same thing. There was no way they could justify that kind of action. Not to themselves, and not to Claire.

“There has to be another way!” Sam said. “Maybe if we figure out what spell she used to block Cas, we can undo it?”

Dean shrugged. “It’s worth a shot. What ingredients did she use?” he asked.

Cas closed his eyes, his forehead furrowed with concentration as he dictated a list of ingredients to Sam, but Dean couldn’t escape the sinking feeling that this time, there was no loophole, nothing they could do to come out on top. They’d beaten the odds too many times, cheated death over and over, but this time, their luck had finally run out.

* * *

The door to the cell opened and Claire walked in, forcing herself to move at a casual pace despite the way her skin crawled from the demons’ gaze on the back of her neck. She was expecting the heavy  _ clang  _ of the door as it closed behind her, so she didn’t jump, no matter how much she wanted to.

Mandy looked up from her seat on the floor warily, her brown eyes red-rimmed. “Claire?”

Claire smiled, feeling it go a little watery. “Yeah, honey, it’s me.”

“How do I know it’s you?” Mandy asked, not moving from where she sat, and Claire felt a rush of pride.

“Because purple elephants,” she said, crossing the cell and sinking down to a sitting position on the pallet.

Mandy’s face crumpled and she curled into Claire’s side, sobbing. For all that she was a teenager now, as tall as she was ever likely to get, it was so familiar that Claire couldn’t speak for a minute because of the lump in her throat.

“Shhh, honey,” she murmured, stroking her hands down Mandy’s hair, the gesture automatic even after so many years gone. “Shhh, baby, it’s okay. It’s okay, I promise.”

“I’m sorry,” Mandy sobbed. “I’m sorry, I didn’t--I shouldn’t--”

Claire shook her head. “It’s okay, honey.”

“No, it’s not!” Mandy snapped, suddenly forceful. “You’re stuck here too now, and it’s all my fault!”

Claire took Mandy’s face in her hands. “Mandy, look at me. It’s okay. We’re going to get out of here.”

“How?” Mandy asked, laughing a little hysterically. “We’re  _ literally _ in Hell!”

“Trust me,” Claire said, stroking the hair back from her sister’s face. “I have backup.” 


	7. Want

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean needs to calm down and relieve some stress. Cas helps him.
> 
> With his dick.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So very NSFW. As always, tags have been updated. If Destiel isn't your thing, this chapter contains zero plot, so you can skip it without missing anything.

Dean slammed the book closed. That didn’t help his frustration at all, so he picked it up and flung it against the wall. The thud was a little satisfying, but not enough to make up for the identical bitch-faces that Sam and Cas turned on him. 

“Dean, that book is a hundred and seventy-five years old,” Sam said reproachfully.

“I don’t fucking care!” Dean growled. “It’s not helping. None of it is helping. She’s been gone for a week! And all we’ve done is sit here on our asses while Crowley’s down in Hell laughing at us.”

Cas’s frown deepened. “A frontal assault on Hell would be most unwise--”

“You don’t think I know that?” Dean interrupted. “Hell, if I thought we had the slightest chance of not dying, I’d already be there.”

“We’re going to get her back,” Sam said gently. “Crowley won’t hurt her; a real live prophet is too valuable to him. Especially with the tablets.”

“I know,” Dean snapped, raking a hand through his hair. “I can’t do this right now, I need to take a walk or something.”

He shoved his chair back from the table and stalked off down the hall, only to come to a halt as Cas appeared directly in his path.

“Not right now, Cas--” he cut off abruptly when Cas shoved him up against the wall.

“You’re tired, and worried, and stressed,” the angel said, his forehead furrowed.

“No shit, Sherlock,” Dean said, trying to pull away, but Cas’s grip was implacable. He was stuck, pinned against the wall, and Dean tried to ignore the little zing of excitement that sent shooting up his spine. 

Cas shook his head. “I can’t make you sleep, and I can only share your worry. But I can do something about the stress. If you’ll let me.”

Before Dean could do much more than blink at him, Cas was pushing even further into his personal space, kissing him. Gently at first, giving Dean room to back off, then deepening the kiss, urging Dean’s lips apart and licking into his mouth. Dean let his head fall back against the wall, letting Cas control the kiss, control  _ him _ .

Except it wasn’t the wall his head touched, but something softer. When Cas finally pulled back, just enough for them to catch their breath, Dean opened his eyes and saw a very familiar ceiling. “Did you just poof us into my room?” he asked, wincing inwardly at how breathy his voice was. “Onto my bed?”

“I assumed you would rather not have Sam come across us in the hallway?” Cas said, leaning back and letting his trenchcoat fall off his shoulders to the floor. “Besides, you’re always talking about how comfortable your mattress is.”

Dean shrugged, only then realizing that his hands couldn’t move from above his head. “Sam’s seen worse...dude, did you angel mojo me?”

Cas smirked, loosening his tie. “Claire told me about the time with the cuffs.”

“Yeah, well, she’s got some equipment that you don’t,” Dean scoffed. He tried to distract himself from the fact that Cas was holding him down without even touching him, but a glance down his body showed that even the sturdy denim of his jeans couldn’t hide how hard he was already.

“That’s true,” Cas allowed. Dean’s t-shirt blinked out of existence, and Cas smirked again. “But I have some capabilities that she doesn’t have.”

“F-fair enough,” Dean stuttered as Cas’s fingers trailed down his bare stomach, a light, teasing touch that felt like sparks dancing across his skin. “What are you going to do?”

Cas stopped, his fingertips resting lightly on the waistband of Dean’s jeans, his eyes hooded. “Whatever I want, Dean.”

Dean shuddered, closing his eyes, then shuddered again at the brush of Cas’s shirt over his bare chest as he leaned up, his lips inches from Dean’s ear.

“That’s what you want, isn’t it?” he murmured, the warm rush of his breath raising goosebumps on Dean’s skin. “You want to let go. You don’t want to have to think, to plan. You just want to feel this, feel what I can do to you.”

Dean kept his eyes squeezed closed, but they flew open again when Cas pinched his nipple--hard. “Answer me,” Cas growled, and Dean didn’t like to think of himself as the submissive type, but he’d be lying if he said he hadn’t fantasized a few times about the way that voice sounded when Cas snapped out orders in bed.

“Yeah,” Dean rasped out, closing his eyes again. “That’s what I want.”

“Good,” Cas praised, pressing his lips to the side of Dean’s neck. “But that doesn’t matter right now, does it Dean?”

Dean swallowed, arms pulling against his invisible bonds, just to feel how trapped he was. “No,” he whispered.

“That’s right,” Cas said, catching Dean’s earlobe between his teeth. “Because right now, we’re doing what I want.”

“Have you…” Dean cleared his throat. “Have you done this before? With a guy, I mean?”

“Personally? No,” Cas admitted, sounding amused. “However, I’ve learned a lot about the power of… research from you and Sam. And I’ve had more than seven years to think about the things I’d like to do to you, Dean, all the ways I’d like to see you come undone.”

Dean couldn’t stop the whimper that rose in his throat at that, and Cas’s lips curved against his neck. “Do you know, Dean, how long I spent watching over you? Not just the hunting, either. I saw the women you were with, and the men. I saw the way they touched you, what you liked. I’m the world’s foremost expert on how to have sex with Dean Winchester, and now I get to test out all that knowledge firsthand.”

Cas sank his teeth into the spot where Dean’s neck met his shoulder, and Dean let himself go limp. Cas hummed approvingly, the sound vibrating across Dean’s skin, and straightened, his eyes raking possessively over Dean. “Where to start, where to start,” he murmured to himself.

Dean’s hips bucked up, but Cas’s weight kept him pinned to the bed. “None of that,” he said disapprovingly, and Dean whined as invisible bonds wrapped around his ankles, holding them to the bed. He strained against them, but they didn’t budge, Cas’s power safe and warm against his skin. 

“Better,” Cas said when Dean relaxed again. He went back to his leisurely perusal, and Dean had to close his eyes, unable to take the laser intensity of those blue eyes on his skin.

After what felt like forever, Cas finally touched him again, strong, calloused hands mapping every inch of his skin. Dean made a noise in the back of his throat when Cas’s fingertips rubbed across his nipples, Cas rewarded him with the scrape of a blunt fingernail, and then his tongue, warm and wet, before those hands resumed their journey downward, his mouth following in their wake. His fingers traced along Dean’s waistband for an eternity before they finally took pity, undoing the button and pulling the zipper slowly down. 

The sudden lack of pressure against Dean’s  dick was an ineffable relief, but then the jeans were gone altogether, evaporating with his boxers under the weight of Cas’s impatience, and Dean was naked, splayed out on his bed like he was on display. His dick twitched just slightly at that thought, and his eyes flew open as Cas’s mouth closed around it.

_ Don’t come until I say you can,  _ said Cas’s voice in his head, and that was just  _ unfair _ , the fact that even with his mouth stuffed full of Dean’s cock he was still using that gravelly voice to take Dean apart.  _ I want to watch you come while I’m fucking you. _

His ankles were pulled wider and back toward his hips, and Dean felt himself flush, redness moving down his neck and across his chest as he realized exactly how open he was spread. Cas swirled his tongue around Dean’s dick and his finger, somehow slick with lube, ghosted over Dean’s ass, teasing, pressing, but not pushing inside until Dean was squirming as much as his bonds would allow.

“Couldn’t you just...get me ready?” Dean complained, relaxing around the intrusion.

“I could,” Cas said, pulling off and stroking his other hand firmly over Dean’s cock. “But it’s more fun this way.”

“Fun for  _ you, _ maybe,” Dean muttered, but Cas just arched an eyebrow. 

“Yes, exactly. We’re doing what I want, Dean. Remember?”

Dean lost his breath when Cas added another finger.  He worked it teasingly inside as his other hand twisted around Dean’s cock, thumb rubbing just under the head where it was most sensitive. Dean gritted his teeth, throwing his head back against the pillow, and thought about decomposing corpses, werewolf kills with the hearts torn out, anything to take his mind off his very pressing need to come. 

Another finger, and Dean sucked in deep breaths until he could relax into the stretch, leave himself in Cas’s hands. He couldn’t control what was happening here, couldn’t goad Cas into hurrying up. All he could do was lie here, waiting for what happened next.

“I’m ready,” he said, shocked at the slight slurring of his voice. 

Cas’s hands paused in their movements, those impossibly bright eyes sweeping assessingly over his body. “Yes, I believe you are,” he ground out, reaching for the waistband of his slacks. 

“Please?” Dean managed, and Cas’s eyes softened.

“What do you want, Dean?” he asked, his voice gentle.

Dean dropped his eyes, feeling unaccountably shy. “Could you… can you be naked, too?”

“Of course,” Cas said. 

True to his word, when Dean looked up, the angel was completely naked, the suit disappeared to wherever Dean’s clothes had gone. The muscles in his arms and chest flexed as he stroked one hand over his dick, slicking it. Dean swallowed as his ankles were lifted into the air, knees pressed back toward his chest. 

“Look at me, Dean,” Cas said as the blunt head of his cock pressed against Dean’s ass. 

Dean forced himself to meet Cas’s eyes, feeling more exposed than ever under that intent gaze. Cas pressed relentlessly inside him, thick and hot, until he was completely buried inside Dean, and the entire time his eyes never left Dean’s face.

Dean wanted to thrash and moan, to wrap his legs around Cas’s waist and pull him deeper, to flip them over and ride Cas until they were both a sweaty, incoherent mess. But he couldn’t do any of that. All he could do was lie there, waiting.

“What do you want, Dean?” Cas rasped, and something in Dean gave way, washed over him and through him, warm and pleasant and safe.

“Doesn’t matter what I want,” he said, smiling a little. “We’re doing what you want, Cas.”

“That’s right,” Cas said approvingly, pulling out in one long, slow torturous movement and then pushing back in, hard and fast. “I’m going to fuck you the way I want to.”

“Please,” Dean begged, suddenly desperate. “Please fuck me, Cas.”

The touch of Cas’s power around his ankles disappeared, but Dean barely noticed, because Cas had leaned forward enough to plant his hands on the bed. His arms were pressed into Dean’s knees, pushing them out and back toward his shoulders until Dean was almost bent in half.

Cas snapped his hips, driving into Dean with hard, almost vicious strokes. Dean’s head fell back and his mouth dropped open. 

“Talk to me, Dean,” Cas demanded, his breath coming hard and fast. “How does it feel?”

Dean swallowed. “Feels so good, Cas,” he rasped, unable to stop the little grunts and moans that Cas punched out of him with every thrust. “So--uh--so fucking good. Gonna come--ah--come soon, if you don’t stop.”

“I don’t want to stop,” Cas growled. “I told you I wanted to watch you come while I was fucking you. Can you come like this, just from my cock in your ass?”

“I--” Dean wanted to say yes, wanted to do what Cas wanted, but he’d never actually been able to climax without someone touching his dick before. “I don’t know,” he admitted, closing his eyes so he wouldn’t have to see if Cas was disappointed in him.

“Look at me, Dean,” Cas ordered again, never slowing his relentless thrusts, and Dean reluctantly opened his eyes. But Cas didn’t look disappointed; he looked utterly wrecked. His hair was standing on end like he’d been running his hands through it, his eyes were fever-bright, the pupils blown wide and dark, and his mouth was falling open with each breath, his lips red and full from Dean’s kisses.

Cas smiled softly at him. “Thank you for telling me that,” he said, the gentle tone in sharp contrast to the way he never stopped moving, fucking Dean open until he felt like one exposed nerve, raw and quivering as he was bombarded with sensation after sensation. 

Suddenly Dean couldn’t stand not to be touching Cas with every inch of skin available, his wrists twisting in their implacable bonds almost of their own accord. Cas noticed, his eyes narrowing and forehead furrowing with concern. “What do you need, Dean?” he rasped

“Need to touch you,” Dean said, almost frantic with the need to. “Please, Cas, let me touch you? Please?”

“Of course,” Cas soothed, his power sliding across Dean’s skin in a cool caress as it released his wrists.

Dean’s hands lifted instantly to Cas’s face, one sliding around the back of his neck to bring him down, closer, begging without words for a kiss. Cas obliged him, pressing closer until they were chest-to-chest, their skin sliding slickly together with the thin sheen of sweat that covered both their bodies, and captured his mouth in a kiss. The kiss shouldn’t have been tender, all clashing teeth and hungry tongues, but through it all, Dean could feel that constant thread of  _ Cas _ , strong and steady and  _ there _ , surrounding him, supporting him so that he could finally, finally let go.

The kiss had to end sooner rather than later, but Cas didn’t back off. He stayed right there, their faces only inches apart, breathing each other’s air as they panted and gasped and groaned together.

“Touch yourself,” Cas ordered, and Dean was moving before his brain had consciously registered the command, his right hand sliding between their bodies to wrap around his cock. 

“I’m close,” Cas ground out, never slowing his movements. “Want you to come first. Can you do that for me Dean?”

Dean nodded, his left hand clutching convulsively in the hair on the back of Cas’s head as he shuddered. He was close, so close, his cock hard and leaking from being trapped between their bodies. He tightened his hand, wet and slick from sweat and precome, the slight rasp of the fine trail of hair on Cas’s lower belly a delicious contrast, and his eyes nearly rolled back in his head.

“That’s it, Dean,” Cas rasped, and he somehow found a way to fuck Dean just a little deeper. “That’s it, come for me--” and Dean was gone, coming as though hardwired to Cas’s command, floating in that blissed-out instant, free from worry or fear or anything except perfect, amazing sensation.

When Dean managed to get some brain functions back online, the first thing he was aware of was Cas, skin warm against his side where they were pressed together all down the line of their bodies. Cas stroked a warm washcloth gently over his stomach, cleaning up what would’ve soon become a disgusting mess. Dean tried to summon up annoyance or embarrassment at being cleaned like he couldn’t do it for himself, but he was still too relaxed. 

When the washcloth slid down between his legs, he managed to at least sound somewhat normal when he slurred out “I can--you don’t have to--”

“I want to,” Cas said, almost snapped, but he gentled his motion when the cloth slid over Dean’s ass. “You push yourself too hard, Dean, and don’t take care of yourself like you should. Let me do this for you?“

Dean let himself relax into the mattress, pleasant lassitude weighing down his limbs and pulling him toward sleep. “‘Kay,” he murmured, feeling himself drift again. “Stay?”

The movement of the cloth stopped for just a second, then the covers were being pulled over him. “Sleep,” Cas said, his lips brushing Dean’s shoulder. “I’ll stay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter kind of came out of nowhere and hit me like a truck. Heavily inspired by [this gif (VERY NSFW)](http://45.media.tumblr.com/435015c9e0a670d9e4a98b37a9e76cf1/tumblr_mzmejptEjg1snzjnro1_500.gif), courtesy of [DeanCasPornLookalikes](http://deancaspornlookalikes.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr, as well as by a lot of very fabulous Destiel authors who ensured that I couldn't not ship it.
> 
> As always, thanks to everyone who's reading, leaving kudos and comments. You make me smile every time! *blows kisses*


	8. Plans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley has plans. Big plans.
> 
> Claire is not inclined to go along with them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's in the tags, but extra warning for referenced childhood sexual assault and implied victim-blaming. Please consider your own mental health when reading.

_ Claire stands before Crowley’s throne, her spine straight and her head high, brown hair pulled back into what she calls her “I don’t have time for this shit” ponytail. Her clothes are crumpled as if she has slept in them, but her face is serene and impassive. _

_ Crowley stares at her, his irritation becoming more and more visible on his face as the minutes tick by, but Claire doesn’t so much as shift, her feet planted firmly on the floor. Finally, he rolls his eyes and stands. “I’m sure you’re wondering why I’ve brought you here.” _

_ Claire doesn’t grant him even a flicker of interest, remaining still even when he paces behind her, the slight tension in her shoulders the only sign of unease. _

_ “I had certain… plans that were derailed when Metatron killed the last prophet, and when he ensured that there would be no others,” Crowley says, moving to a table set up to his left. Three clay tablets are arranged on it, set out like jewels on a crimson velvet cloth. “Imagine my surprise when my sources let me know that another prophet had arisen. And now that you’re here, we can move forward.” _

_ He pauses, clearly waiting for a question, but after a few moments of waiting in vain, he rolls his eyes and continues. _

_ “There are so many options, you see. The demon tablet, the angel tablet, and a prophet to interpret them for me...the mind boggles. But in the end, there’s only one prize big enough to be worth this much work.” Crowley paces back around to stand in front of Claire. “You and I, Claire, are going to do what even Lucifer wasn’t able to do. We’re going to take down Heaven, once and for all.” _

_ Claire smiles slowly, the first change of expression since Crowley began talking. “That’s what you think.” _

_ Crowley smirks back at her. “Unless you’d like your sister to be Hell’s newest party favor, you’ll do exactly as I tell you.” _

* * *

“Sam?” Dean waved his hand in front of Sam’s face. “Sammy? Earth to Sam!”

Sam blinked, surprised for a millisecond to be sitting in the bunker’s library with Dean and Cas and not standing in Crowley’s creepy throne room. “Crowley has Claire.”

“Yeah, man,” Dean said, dropping back into his seat and reaching for his beer. “We know.”

Sam shook his head. “No, I mean, I saw it. Just now.”

Cas leaned forward, his gaze sharpening. “You had another vision.”

“Yeah,” Sam said, reaching for his own beer. “Crowley’s definitely got her. He said something about her sister; I guess that’s the girl I saw before. Probably how Crowley got Claire out of the bunker in the first place.”

“Did he say what he’s planning?” Dean asked. “There’s a lot of bad shit Crowley could do with a prophet and the tablets, not to mention what Claire knows about us and the bunker.”

Sam nodded grimly. “You’re not going to like it.”

“I never do,” Dean sighed.

* * *

“I haven’t translated the demon tablet yet,” Claire said calmly. “It wasn’t relevant to what we were doing at the time.”

“Ah, yes,” Crowley said, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Removing the Mark from Dean. How did you manage that, actually?”

“I didn’t do anything,” Claire said. “Sam and Cas did it.”

“Don’t play with me, girl,” Crowley snapped. “I know you were with the Three Amigos the entire time they were working on Dean’s little problem, and I know you translated the angel tablet. Where is that translation, by the way?”

“In the bunker,” Claire said.

“What?!” Crowley exploded up off of his throne. “I specifically told you--”

“To bring the tablets,” Claire interrupted. “I followed your directions precisely.”

Crowley rubbed his hands over his face, heaving a deep breath. “I see. In that case, you’d better start working. Begin with the demon tablet; we’ll move on to the angel tablet when you’re finished. You’ve done that one before, so it should go faster the second time.”

“Fine,” Claire said. “I’m going to need a place to plug in my computer, a desk, paper, and pencils. A whiteboard would be ideal. And Internet access. Do you have Internet access down here?”

“We’re not Neanderthals; of course we have Internet access. Anything else?” Crowley asked, one eyebrow raised. 

“Well, I don’t suppose you happen to have a beach resort handy, do you?” Claire asked, her voice as saccharinely sweet as she could make it, taking on a hint of the drawl she’d mostly eradicated. “I work so much better when I have sun, sand, and mai tais to relax my brain. Not to mention shirtless cabana boys.”

“I’m afraid we’re fresh out of beach resorts,” Crowley said, equally insincere, “But I can offer you a lovely cell with a view of the torture rooms. I always find it very relaxing. Sleep like a baby afterwards”

“Thanks anyway,” Claire said, turning to pick up the demon tablet. “I think I’ll stick with the one I’ve got. For now.” 

Crowley waited until she was almost to the door to call after her. “Fair warning, love. If you use your computer to contact Moose or Squirrel, I’ll know. And you won’t like what happens next.”

Flipping him off as she left probably wasn’t the best course of action, but it sure felt good.

* * *

Claire pulled her laptop out of her bag, only to have it snatched out of her hands by the demon who always seemed to be hanging around, watching Mandy in a way that made her skin crawl. “I’ll need to inspect this,” he said, trying to open the case, only to drop it with a yelp as it zapped him.

Claire caught it and set it carefully on the desk that had appeared in their cell. “Did you really think I’d bring my computer to Hell without warding it against demons?” She managed to bite off the “idiot” only through sheer force of will. “Try it again and it’ll knock you all the way out of your vessel, and then you’ll have to find another meatsuit stupid enough to let you set up shop. Good luck with that.”

He shot her a dark glare, but left the cell when she stared him down. After she’d exorcised the first demon to grab her ass (she’d stabbed the first one to grab Mandy with a demon-killing knife) and Crowley had just shrugged and turned away, the rest of them had restricted themselves to petty torments that didn’t quite cross the line. 

“Why do you keep making them mad?” Mandy asked from where she was curled into the corner of the bed Claire had bullied Crowley into providing. “They could kill you--kill both of us--and say it was an accident.”

Claire sat down at the desk and eyed the completely normal-looking ethernet cable that looked like it had sprouted out of the wall before plugging it gingerly into her laptop--of course Hell couldn’t have wifi. “Even if it genuinely was an accident, Crowley would spend a couple of centuries making them regret it. Right now, I’m more valuable to him than they are, and he’s made sure they all know it.”

Mandy let her head fall back against the stone wall. “Dad always said I was going to Hell. I didn’t think he was right. I just had to get away.”

“Mandy--” Claire closed her eyes for a minute and let regret wash through her. “Honey, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.”

The girl’s mouth twisted in a bitter smile. “Nobody knew, not at first. Just me and him. And then everybody knew, and that was worse. The newspapers won’t print the names of kids who get molested, did you know that? They make sure to get all the juicy details in there anyway, so everybody knows what happened. But they never say your name. You’re just ‘the victim.’”

Claire sank down beside her sister on the bed, hesitating for a minute before pulling Mandy into her arms, stroking her hair as she started to sob. They stayed like that until Mandy ran out of tears and pushed herself back, scrubbing at her face.

“I’m sorry I didn’t know,” Claire said softly, pushing Mandy’s hair back from her face. “I’m sorry I didn’t come back and get you out.”

“It’s not your fault,” Mandy said, her voice wavering.

Claire shook her head a little. “Maybe, maybe not. I didn’t know what was going on, but I knew what it was like before, and that was bad enough. I’m here now, though, and I am going to get you out of this, understand?”

Mandy nodded, even though her eyes were doubtful. 

“Trust me.” Claire pressed a kiss to her sister’s forehead before going back to the desk. She pulled out a pocketknife and flicked it open, making a shallow cut on her left forearm.

Mandy gasped. “What are you doing?”

Claire dipped her finger in the blood and drew a sigil on her computer case before digging a package of band-aids out of her bag and putting one on the cut. “Shhh, it’s okay. Just need to make sure Crowley can’t monitor what we do in here.”

“Are you calling for help?” Mandy asked, hope warring with doubt on her face.

Claire smiled, turning back to the computer. “Something like that…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter hits a little close to home for me. Like Claire, I found out as an adult, after I'd left home, that a younger sibling had been sexually assaulted, and that was only the latest instance of child sexual assault in my family, going back generations. We have to talk about this. We have to, or it just keeps fucking happening.
> 
> I hope I've managed to deal with this topic honestly and respectfully; all I have to go on is my own experience. Thank you all for coming on this journey with me; your comments and kudos make me smile every day.


	9. Free Will

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Claire has a plan and the boys are reluctantly persuaded to go along with it.

Sam jerked upright when his phone started to ring, vibrating its way across the polished surface of the library table. The sandy, gritty feeling in his eyes told him that it was somewhere between very late and very early. He winced at the drool spots on the handwritten journal as he fumbled for the phone, finally managing to swipe to answer on the fourth ring.

“Hello?” he said, lifting the phone to his ear. 

“Check your email,” Charlie said briskly. “I just got one from Claire, and I forwarded it on to you.”

“Dean! Cas! Get in here!!!” Sam almost dropped the phone as he fumbled for his laptop. “Shit! Is she okay?” 

“She’s fine,” Charlie said, her voice softening. “Better than fine, actually. She’s got a plan.”

Cas and Dean blinked into existence on the other side of the table, looking a little rumpled. “Claire?” Cas asked.

Sam nodded, cursing himself for not having upgraded as he waited for his email to load. “She sent Charlie an email.”

“But she’s okay?” Dean persisted, circling the table to lean over Sam’s shoulder. “Did she get away from Crowley?”

“Not… exactly,” Sam said slowly, his eyes darting across the screen.

Dean growled under his breath. “What do you mean, not exactly?”

“He means,” Cas said, his voice even more gravelly than usual, “that Claire wants to stay right where she is, at least for now.”

“What?!” Dean whirled away and slammed a fist into the closest pillar. “Why would she do that?”

Sam sat back in his chair. “She says the spell she did to block Cas is going to be wearing off soon, but she doesn’t want him to zap in and get her and her sister out right away, because then she can keep us informed on what Crowley’s doing.”

“It’s not a bad idea,” Cas said begrudgingly. “She could give Crowley incorrect information from the tablets, too.”

“And what about when Crowley realizes she’s screwing him over?” Dean demanded. “He’ll throw her  _ and _ her sister in the Pit. It’s not worth it.”

“Yeah, but Cas can pop in and grab them, can’t you Cas?” Sam asked, raising his eyebrows questioningly.

Cas nodded. “If my connection to Claire is restored, even Hell’s protections against angels will not be able to keep me out.”

“Okay, so do that as soon as it comes back!” Dean threw up his hands and paced away. “Why the fuck are we even discussing this?”

“Because Claire is an adult and deserves to be able to make her own decisions about shit like this?” Sam’s face physically hurt with the effort not to roll his eyes. “Because we’ve never once had this kind of inside information about what Crowley or anyone is planning? Because if Crowley takes down Heaven, it’s only a matter of time before Earth becomes his playground?”

Dean dropped into a chair and scrubbed his hands over his face. “Shit. Are we really thinking about letting her do this?”

“She says, and I quote, ‘Dean Winchester, if you come in here after me with your stupid-ass white knight complex, I will personally ensure that you get no sex for a month after I get back.’” Despite the situation, Sam couldn’t have stopped the shit-eating grin that spread across his face if he’d tried. “And if I tell her you said ‘letting her,’ I bet she’ll make it two.”

“Fuck off, Sasquatch. Like you weren’t thinking it, too.” Dean leaned over enough to read the screen. “Ha! ‘Sam and Cas, that goes double for both of you. Don’t think I don’t know how the three of you are.’”

The three men carefully avoided each other’s eyes for a long, tense moment. Cas was the one who finally broke the silence. “Given that we have always been proponents of exercising free will, we have no right to take Claire’s choice away from her.”

Dean sighed. “Fine. But you go in the second it even looks like they’re in danger and you get them out of there, Cas. I don’t care if you’re balls-deep--” He broke off, flushing.

Sam didn’t bother holding back the eyeroll this time. “I know you guys are fucking, Dean. Just please, Cas, for fuck’s sake, zap some pants on yourself first? Please?”

“I will endeavor to dress appropriately for the occasion,” Cas said solemnly. 

Sam cracked up first, because Cas’s face was appropriately deadpan, but his eyes were twinkling in the way that said he was fucking with them, not just completely missing the point. Dean joined in after a minute, and Cas, too, and oh, it felt  _ good _ , laughing with his brother and their angel. Even with the Claire-shaped emptiness (and who’d have thought one average-sized woman could leave the bunker feeling like a vast, echoing tomb?), it was good. Like old times. Sam squared his shoulders, feeling a surge of confidence.

They had an archangel on their side, an inside woman who was also a prophet, and Crowley? For all his manipulations, he was no Lucifer. They’d dealt with way worse than one petty crossroads demon and come out on top.

Dean raised his eyebrows at Sam, still chuckling a little under his breath, and Sam gave him back a nod and a smile, thinking wistfully about all the times Claire had called them out on their almost telepathic communication.

_ We’ve got this,  _ his nod said.

_ Damn right,  _ Dean’s smile answered. 

* * *

“You’re stalling,” Crowley said flatly. “Do you need an object lesson to remind you of what’s at stake here?”

Claire carefully kept every trace of fear off her face, taking a second to appreciate the irony of using the things she’d learned when living with her “God-fearing” parents to help manipulate the King of Hell. “I’m not stalling,” she snapped. “It’s not like Google Translate in my brain. I understand what the tablet says, but not in words. It’s… concepts, images. Translating those to English or another human language is difficult at best. If I do too much, I’ll burn myself out and I won’t be able to translate for days.”  

Crowley studied her in silence as the seconds crawled slowly past. In the time she’d been waiting for her “audience,” Claire had seen more than one demon crack under his impassive regard. She mentally gave thanks for every horribly polite staff meeting and petty department head evaluation she’d ever have to suffer through, and kept a blandly pleasant smile on her face.

“Fine,” Crowley said finally. “What do you have?”

Claire proffered a small stack of papers, stepping back from the throne as soon as Crowley took them. He scanned them one by one, his face slowly relaxing into a smug smile. 

“Very well,” he said when he looked up from the last page. “This will do for now.”

Claire turned to leave the throne room, her face still carefully controlled.  _ When I get out of here _ , she thought,  _ I’m going to go in one of those empty rooms in the bunker and scream and throw things for like an hour. _

Behind her, Crowley cleared his throat and Claire forced herself to keep the same even pace. “I hope all of these pan out when they’re tested. For your sister’s sake.”

Claire turned in the doorway and fixed him with her most unimpressed look. “Unlike your little minions, my IQ doesn’t fluctuate with room temperature. I’m well aware of what’s at stake here, and I will continue to remember even without the heavy-handed reminders.”

“See that you do,” Crowley said, and Claire barely managed to keep from rolling her eyes as she walked down the hall to her cell, flanked by the usual pair of dumb but loyal demon guards.

_ Maybe I’ll take up pottery, just so I can have something to smash. _

* * *

Dean didn’t realize how much underlying tension there was in Cas’s body until the angel’s shoulder relaxed under Dean’s head, his fingers stilling instead of rubbing soothingly through Dean’s hair.

“‘Sup?” Dean mumbled sleepily. 

“It’s Claire,” Cas said, his voice rumbling through his chest. “I can see her again.”

Dean shook his head, sitting up a little. He was pretty sure that Claire wouldn’t have a problem with him and Cas, given how close all four of them gotten in the past and a few conversations that had been confusing at the time but made a lot of sense in hindsight. It still felt weird to talk about her when they were curled up together all naked and post-coital and she was literally stuck in Hell. “Is she okay?”

“She appears to be,” Cas said, his eyes unfocused. “She’s sitting at a desk, using her computer. There’s a girl in the corner of the room who matches the description from Sam’s visions.” 

“Her sister,” Dean said, wishing he could see what Cas was seeing. “But she’s not hurt or bleeding or anything? No visible bruises?”

Cas squeezed Dean’s shoulder, his hand a strong, reassuring warmth. “She appears entirely uninjured. A bit tired, but safe and well.”

The surge of relief that rushed through Dean’s body was so powerful it left him dizzy. “Good. That’s… that’s good. We should let Sammy know.”

“Yes,” Cas agreed, sliding out of bed and stretching, his body one long, lean, muscular line, before picking his clothes up from the floor.

Dean watched him get dressed, amused by the fact that Cas was perfectly willing to zap their clothes off in order to speed things along, but usually insisted on dressing himself manually. 

“What? Cas asked without looking up.

“Just thinking,” he said, shoving himself off the bed and picking up his own clothes. “You could do that a lot faster if you just--” he waved a hand vaguely to indicate Cas’s use of his Grace.

“I know,” Cas said equably. “If there was a time issue, I would. But I like it. It reminds me of being human.”

Dean nodded, pulling his shirt over his head. “Fair. You know,” he continued thoughtfully, “it’s a shame your connection with Claire is just one-way. If you could talk to her directly, it’d be a hell of a lot more secure than encrypted emails.”

Cas’s forehead furrowed in thought. “It should theoretically be possible,” he said slowly. “I’ve never heard of such a thing, but this is a unique situation. There would have been no need for an archangel to directly communicate with a prophet in the past. It’s possible that Crowley might have Hell warded in such a way as to block it, but since I can see her, it seems likely I should be able to speak to her.”

“Can you try?” Dean asked, doing his best not to get his hopes up.

Cas nodded, closing his eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to those who've been commenting! It means a lot to me!!! ((((hugs))))


	10. Privacy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cas tries to communicate with Claire, and Dean surprises everyone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kind of a lot of feelings in this one. Just FYI. Sappy, schmoopy feelings.

_ Claire, are you well? _

Claire twitched in her seat when the gravelly voice echoed in her mind. She did her best to cover the reaction as much as possible, even though she’d taken every possible precaution against Crowley being able to spy on them in their cell.

_ Cas?  _

_ Yes. _ A sense of fierce satisfaction filled her mind, and it took her a moment to realize that it wasn’t coming from her.  _ I was uncertain if we could communicate in this manner, but I thought it was worth a try. As Dean pointed out, it is more secure than email, even though we trust Charlie implicitly. _

_ Can’t argue with that,  _ Claire agreed.  _ It’s nice to know you’re watching again. How are the boys doing? _

_ Better now that we know you can be reached if need be,  _ Cas answered, his mental “voice” gently chiding.

Claire sighed.  _ I had to. Crowley threatened… I couldn’t take the chance with my sister’s safety. If anyone can understand that, I’d think it would be Sam and Dean. _

_ They do understand. That doesn’t mean they  _ like _ it. _ The feel of Cas’s wry smile was so strong she could almost see it in her mind’s eye, the curve of his mouth and the crinkles around his eyes.

_ I bet.  _ Claire leaned back in her chair.  _ Really, though, how are they holding up? Is Sam eating and sleeping? Is Dean losing his shit? _

_ Dean has been… tense, but I’ve managed to help keep him calm,  _ Cas replied, his mental voice strangely diffident. 

Claire blinked rapidly as she assimilated the flood of images and sense-memories that accompanied his words.  _ I’ll say you have. No big gay panic from him over it being just the two of you? _

An instant sense of embarrassment and chagrin flowed down their bond.  _ I apologize,  _ Cas said, his mental voice soft.  _ I hadn’t intended to ‘overshare’. It seems that the archangel-prophet bond can carry more information than if I were communicating with a random human. _

_ It’s fine, Cas, _ she reassured him, doing her best to send the mental version of a reassuring hug.  _ I’m glad you’re there for him, since I can’t be. _

_ What if you could?  _ Cas asked. 

_ I can’t take the chance of leaving, _ she answered reluctantly.  _ Even if you could zap me right back to the minute I left, it would be too risky. If Crowley knows I can leave, we’ll have to go back to gathering our information the hard way. I think our team deserves a break for once. _

_ That wasn’t what I meant,  _ he replied, _ although it is an an idea we might revisit at a later date. No, what I meant was that you could share my consciousness the next time Dean and I are together, if you wish. If Dean agreed, I could share the connection with him as well. _

Claire swallowed hard, her throat aching with the wave of longing that swept over her for Dean’s affectionate touches, for Sam’s gentle teasing, for Cas’s quiet presence, for  _ home _ .  _ I don’t think there’s a chance in Hell Dean will let you into his mind, but if he doesn’t mind me doing a ride-along… it’d be nice. I miss you. All of you. _

_ We miss you as well,  _ Cas said, and for a minute it was like being held, wrapped safely in strong arms. Claire let herself relax, just for a minute, allowed herself to let go of her constant vigilance and just  _ be _ .

_ I will let Sam and Dean know that you’re well,  _ Cas said finally.  _ And don’t be so sure about Dean not letting me into his mind. There was a time when he wouldn’t have let me into his body, either. _

Claire snorted out a laugh.  _ You’re not wrong. Keep them safe, Cas. _

_ Always,  _ he promised solemnly.  _ And you as well. We respect your choice, and knowing Crowley’s plans will be invaluable, but the second there is a clear and present danger to you or your sister, I  _ will _ remove you. _

_ I’m okay with that _ , she agreed.  _ Being demon-bait is not my idea of a great eternity.  _

She felt the unmistakable sensation of warm, slightly chapped lips pressed against hers.  _ Nor mine. Be safe, Claire. I’m here. _

Even after Cas’s presence faded from her awareness, it was with a considerably lighter heart that Claire returned to her laptop and the contemplation of the best ways to subtly screw with the King of Hell.

* * *

“But she’s okay?” Dean asked for the hundredth time as they came back into his bedroom, aware that he was repeating himself, but unable to stop. At least Sam had had just as many questions when Cas had told them about his “visit” with Claire.

“Yes, Dean,” Cas replied, his tone still patient even though it was the hundredth time. He started to unbutton his shirt, nimble fingers moving quickly down toward the hem.

“Sorry,” Dean said, laughing shakily. He unzipped his jeans and peeled them off, tossing them on top of the dresser for tomorrow.  “I believe you. I promise I’ll stop asking. I just… it just doesn’t seem real to me unless I see it myself, you know.”

Cas stopped moving, completely frozen for a moment before he resumed unbuttoning. “Claire and I were discussing--” he broke off, looking uncertain, then started again. “There is a way that you could see it for yourself.”

“Oh, yeah?” Dean perked up. “A spell or something?”

“Not exactly.” Cas looked a little squirmy. “If I were to share my perceptions with you, you could see what I saw. But you’d have to let me inside your head, and I know how you value your privacy.”

Dean barked out a laugh. “Cas, man, look around. You sleep in my room every night so I won’t have nightmares. When I get too wound up you fuck it out of me. We’re undressing for bed and jawing like an old married couple. What privacy?”

“Should I leave?” Cas asked, sounding uncertain. “Do you want me to go?”

“What? Jesus, no.” Dean rubbed his hands over his face. “That’s not what I meant.”

Cas rolled his eyes. “Then what  _ did _ you mean, Dean? Since I ‘respect your boundaries,’ I can’t actually read your mind.”

Dean sighed. “What I meant was, that sounds like a good idea. I’d feel better if I could ‘see’ Claire for myself.”

“And you wouldn’t mind having me in your head?” Cas persisted.

“Well, I’ve had you just about everywhere else,” Dean joked.

Cas aimed a truly impressive bitchface in his direction. He’d clearly been taking tips from Sam. 

“Seriously, though,” Dean said, sobering. “There’s not many people I’d trust to be inside my head, Cas, but you’re one of them.”

It wasn’t very often that Dean had seen Cas speechless, so he sat back to enjoy the moment while it lasted. Cas blinked owlishly at him, his whole face softening, until he was smiling at Dean, open and affectionate and so contagious that Dean couldn’t help but smile back. 

“Thank you, Dean,” he said finally, his voice low and husky. 

They sat there smiling at each other like a couple of saps for several minutes until Dean cleared his throat, breaking the silence. “So, when did you want to do this?”

“We can try now,” Cas said. “Just for a moment, to see if you’re comfortable with it.”

“Sure.” Dean looked around the room. “So how do we do this?”

Cas shrugged out of his unbuttoned shirt, muscles flexing in his arms and chest, and Dean forced his gaze away out of habit before he remembered he was allowed to look, encouraged even. “For the first time, you should probably be as relaxed as possible. Maybe lying down on the bed?” 

Dean shrugged. “Sure, why not.” He shucked off his t-shirt, giving it a sniff before tossing it into the laundry basket, and stretched out on the bed in his boxers. Not like Cas hadn’t seen the whole deal before, but something about the conversation had him feeling a little shy. “What now?”

“Close your eyes,” Cas said, and Dean obeyed without thinking. “Relax, Dean. Let me in.”

For a minute Dean tensed, unsure what he was supposed to do, and then Cas’s hand was on his face, warm and familiar, and Cas’s mouth was on his, gentle pressure teasing his lips apart. Dean relaxed, opening to Cas on a sigh, and suddenly his perception doubled. He could feel Cas kissing him, but he could also feel himself kissing back, every sensation feeding back on itself until he was a little drunk from it.

“Whoa,” Dean said, his eyes fluttering open when they broke apart. “This is trippy as fuck.”

“Yes,” Cas agreed, smiling down at him. “Are you ready? You might want to close your eyes again.”

Dean considered being stubborn for about a millisecond, but in the end he did as Cas had suggested. The next second he was glad he had, because he seemed to be standing in a small stone cell. Except  _ he _ wasn’t standing; it was more like he was the omniscient point of view of a camera in a video game or a movie, since he didn’t seem to have a body.

But all of his speculation and wondering came to an abrupt halt when the woman at the desk turned and he realized who he was seeing.  _ Claire _ , he breathed, and her head snapped up.

_ Dean? _

He reached out instinctively, and body or no body, it felt like holding her, like having Claire in his arms again. A tightness in his chest that Dean hadn’t even been aware of loosened, warm and aching behind his breastbone.

_ Hey, sweetheart,  _ he murmured, grateful that they were speaking mind-to-mind so he didn’t have to worry about how teary his voice might be.  _ Missed you. _

_ I missed you, too _ , she answered.  _ Did you actually let Cas in your head just so you could come ‘see’ me? _

He did his best to convey a shrug.  _ Did you think I wouldn’t? _

_ Kinda, yeah. You like your privacy. _

Dean rolled his eyes mentally, aware of Cas’s amusement only because it clearly wasn’t his own. Thankfully, the angel stayed silent and let Dean handle the talking.  _ Yeah, but it’s Cas. If anyone’s an exception, it’s him. _

_ True.  _ She smiled.  _ I’m glad you’re letting him take care of you. I was a little worried you’d be doing stupid shit to try and find me by this point. _

_ Who says I didn’t?  _ he countered, trying (and probably failing) to avoid projecting his embarrassment through the bond. 

_ Cas would’ve told on you, _ she replied, and he felt Cas’s wordless agreement an instant later.

_ Ganging up on me?  _ Dean mock-protested.

Claire’s smile was almost blinding.  _ Only when you need it. _

_ Which is most of the time, _ Cas finished.

_ I see how it is, _ Dean grumbled, doing his best to convey a pout, and Claire bit her lip, her eyes dancing with amusement and her mental giggles ringing out loud and clear.

They stayed like that for a few moments, just savoring being close to each other, despite the circumstances.  _ Thank you,  _ Claire said finally.  _ Both of you. I know staying here was my idea, but it’s hard. This… this helps. _

_ We should probably go,  _ Cas said, his reluctance an echo of Dean’s.  _ I can’t imagine that Crowley could detect the bond, but we shouldn’t press our luck. Just in case. _

_ Yeah,  _ Dean agreed against his will.  _ Just… just gimme a sec, okay? _

He pulled Claire closer, ignoring the parts of his perception that gave the lie to what he felt. He was holding her, dammit, her body tucked familiarly up against his, warm and real and  _ there _ . Instinctively, he bent to kiss her and almost recoiled at how real it felt, the softness of her lips under his, the slide of her tongue against his. He broke the kiss only reluctantly.

_ We will return soon,  _ Cas promised.

_ We will,  _ Dean agreed, not sure which of them he was promising.

Claire nodded, her body settling back into the subtle tension from before they’d arrived. 

A part of Dean howled for him to grab her, take her, not to leave her here in this snake pit. She might not be on the rack, enduring endless unimaginable tortures, but she was still in Hell, the place that he still woke up from nightmares of. It took everything he had to take that mental step back, not to fall to his knees and beg her to come back, to tell her that they’d find a better way.

But there was no better way, and they all knew it.  _ See you soon _ , he said.  _ I love you.  _ Because if his life had taught him anything, it was that you never wasted a chance to say those words when you really meant them.

_ She will be safe,  _ Cas said to him, something in the “tone” telling him that it was just between the two of them.  _ I will not allow her to be harmed. _

_ I know, Cas,  _ Dean answered, hoping he’d managed to keep it private as well.

_ Tell Sam I said I love him, _ Claire said, interrupting whatever else he might have said.  _ And tell him I’ll see all of you soon. _

_ Will do, sweetheart,  _ Dean said.  _ Be safe. _

Between one blink and the next, Dean was lying on his bed, his face wet with tears they both pretended he wasn’t crying. Cas’s arms around him were a welcome warmth until he finally drifted off to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I kind of couldn't resist, because empathic sex/sensual contact was my first favorite thing EVER. My unending thanks for those of you who braved the OFC to read this story; your kudos and comments and subscriptions make me so happy!!!


	11. Okay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam tries out his powers; Dean and Cas have a proposition for him.
> 
> or, Dean has a Little Gay Panic

Sam looked furtively behind him before opening the door to one of the approximately seven thousand bunker storerooms. He knew it was ridiculous, sneaking around like a fifteen-year-old smuggling his first Playboy into the house, especially when Cas could probably track him down at the speed of thought. Even with Dean’s acceptance, even after learning that it wasn’t a legacy of Azrael’s blood in him, he couldn’t stop himself from feeling like using his powers was something hidden, bad, wrong.

Door safely closed, he turned on the light and looked around. This storeroom was mostly empty, just a few small items scattered around on shelves. He did a cursory check of the contents, setting aside a box of files, a spellbook, and a couple of artifacts for later investigation. That still left several duplicate copies of books that were already in the library, various small items that appeared to be magically inert, and the accumulated detritus of offices everywhere.

He took a deep breath in and released it, and then closed his eyes. He tried to remember what it had felt like, using his powers. Before Ruby, before the rush of the demon blood smashed through his mind like a tidal wave and broke down the barriers that protected him. Before he’d shut everything down, blocked off that part of himself and shoved it back as far as it would go. 

Sam forced the tension of the memories out of his muscles, imagining it flowing down through his legs and dispersing into the ground. He took another deep breath and reached out with his mind, trying for a delicate touch. A paperclip rocked back and forth on the steel shelf, and then rose slowly in the air.

He held it in midair for as long as he could, until he started to shake, fine tremors vibrating through his muscles. Finally, he lowered it slowly back to the shelf, setting it down with a gentle clink before relaxing, covered in sweat like he’d just finished a five-mile run. But when he swiped a hand across his face, sweat was the only moisture that came away. He closed the storeroom door carefully behind him and made his way to the bathroom to check his face, some part of his mind still convinced that it would be a mask of blood, leaking from his nose and his eyes.

But the face that greeted him in the mirror was the same as it always was. A little tighter around the eyes, maybe, a little more weary around the mouth, but not a blood-soaked demon mask. A human face.  _ His _ human face. 

_ Okay. I can do this. _

* * *

Dean didn’t realize that he was shredding the last piece of his garlic bread until Sam rolled his eyes, set down his fork, and said “What?” in a tone of thinly veiled impatience.

“So, Cas can talk to Claire now that they’re connected again,” Dean said slowly, and then stopped, not quite sure how to continue

“Yes,” Sam said, eyebrows raised. “He said that.”

“And, like, if he’s in my head, I can talk to her too,” Dean said, fumbling for words. “And, uh…”

Sam sighed his why-do-I-have-to-put-up-with-this-idiot sigh. “Spit it out, Dean.”

Dean gave up on the garlic bread, which was just a pile of crumbs on his plate at this point, but kept his eyes on it. “Gimme a second, okay? This is a little out there, even for us.”

The silence stretched for one minute, then two. Finally Sam sighed and said, “Cas, any chance you wanna help us out here, since Dean’s having a harder time than usual using his words?”

“The connection is not restricted to words,” Cas’s gravelly voice said from behind Dean. 

Dean’s shoulders relaxed down away from his ears as he felt Cas’s hands resting, warm and familiar on them. “When I am connected to Claire, she can feel me, and I her, as if we were interacting physically. With Dean in the connection, the same is true for him. We had offered to allow her to connect with us the next time Dean and I are… intimate, since she is feeling lonely. Dean didn’t want to leave you out, since you miss Claire as well, but he was uncomfortable bringing up the topic since the two of you normally have Claire as a buffer between you in sexual situations.”

Sam opened his mouth, then closed it again, and Dean couldn’t hold back a small smirk. 

“Let me see if I have this straight,” Sam said finally. “You and Dean are going to have sex, but also have… mind-sex with Claire?”

“Essentially,” Cas agreed. “More emotion-sex, but our minds are the conduit through which we will perceive it, so--”

Sam’s upraised hand cut the angel off mid-lecture, and Dean was reluctantly impressed. “And you weren’t sure if I’d want to be a part of it, since Dean and I don’t really do sex without Claire, but you’re giving me the choice.”

Dean nodded. “Basically, yeah.”

“Okay,” Sam said. “So when are we doing this?”

Dean couldn’t stop his mouth from falling open a little bit in surprise, and it was Sam’s turn to smirk.

“You’re--you’re actually on board with this?” Dean asked, just to be sure he wasn’t completely misreading the situation.

Sam rolled his eyes. “Dean, I can count on one hand the number of times in the past five years one of us has had sex without the other in the room, and I’d have fingers left over. This might not even be the weirdest thing we’ve ever done.”

Dean started a count, but gave up when he realized he’d already gone back three years and still at two. “Come on,” he complained half-heartedly. “It’s pretty weird.”

“Weirder than that time with the mara?” Sam asked, raising his eyebrows as he went back to his lasagna. “At least we’ll both be awake this time.”

“Point,” Dean conceded, picking up his plate and taking it to the sink. “But--”

“Tonight,” Cas said, sliding a comforting hand down Dean’s arm as he walked past him. “Claire indicated that she will most likely have an extended period of privacy starting around ten o’clock our time.”

“I guess even demons gotta sleep,” Sam said with a shrug. “All right. Meet you in the big bedroom, then?”

Dean swallowed, hard. By unspoken agreement, none of them had slept in the big bedroom with its giant bed since Claire had disappeared. He and Sam had retreated to their own bedrooms by unspoken agreement, and until Cas started bunking with him regularly, Dean hadn’t allowed himself to think about how much he missed the warmth of another body in his space. But if they were going to do this, it seemed only right that it be in the room that belonged to the four of them, where they’d talked and made love and slept together.

“Yes,” Cas answered for both of them. 

Sam nodded and brought his plate over to the sink. “You sure you’re okay with this, Dean?”

Dean wasn’t a hundred percent sure, but he knew that the thought of Sam not being there left an empty, hollow ache inside his chest, so he plastered on his best shit-eating grin. “Already got my big gay panic out of the way,” he assured his brother. “We’re good.”

Sam studied his face for a few minutes longer than was strictly comfortable, but eventually he nodded. “All right. I’m going to look at the angel tablet translation and the notes that Claire made on the demon tablet and see if I can find anything that might help whenever Crowley gets geared up to try and take out Heaven. I’ll see you guys at ten.”

Cas leaned against the counter and watched in silence for a few minutes as Dean scrubbed the lasagna pan. “ _ Are _ you alright with this, Dean?”

Dean rolled his eyes so hard his entire head moved. “Why do you guys keep asking me that? Why don’t you ask Sam? I mean, as far as I know this’ll be his first time being with a dude. Or why aren’t we asking you? This whole gay incest thing isn’t a problem for an archangel of the fucking Lord?”

Cas wrapped one hand around Dean’s neck and pulled him into a rough, possessive kiss, devouring his mouth hungrily. Dean felt himself going pliant, leaning into Cas, who nipped at Dean’s lower lip as he pulled back. “Clearly I don’t have a problem with homosexuality, Dean, considering how much time I spend fucking you into the mattress lately.”

“Yeah, okay,” Dean muttered, trying to fight down the flush he could feel rising in his cheeks. “But you don’t have a problem with Sam and me?”

“You and Sam have shared many sexual encounters,” Cas said calmly, “including many that I was also involved in. Why would this be different just because Claire isn’t here?”

Dean shrugged, turning back to the sink. “I dunno. Maybe it’s just easier to fool myself if there’s a girl? Like ‘it’s not gay if it’s in a threeway’?”

Cas shook his head, but his voice and his eyes were fond. “You know, Dean, for someone as openly sexual as you are, you have a lot of hangups about sex.”

Dean pulled the stopper and started scrubbing the sink out with his dishcloth. “I guess so. Hell of a thing to learn about myself.”

Cas squeezed the back of Dean’s neck, and Dean closed his eyes for a minute and leaned into the touch, the comforting strength of his angel making it okay to let his guard down for a minute. 

“This is going to turn out okay, right?” Dean asked, hating how small his voice was. “We’re going to be okay?”

“Even as an archangel, I can’t see the future,” Cas said apologetically. “But we’ve dealt with a lot worse before.”

“Yeah,” Dean sighed, opening his eyes and starting to wring out the dishcloth. “Is it ever going to end?

“I don’t know that either,” Cas said, his voice sad.

Dean sighed again. “That’s what I was afraid of.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You didn't think a little talking and kissing was all they were going to do, did you? Come on, have you met me? 
> 
> Next time, a meeting of the minds :D
> 
> "the time with the mara" is a reference to another SPN fic I read lo these many moons ago but can't find now. If I ever do find it again, I'll link it here!
> 
> As always, thank you all for the comments and kudos and subscriptions. <3 <3 <3


	12. Together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which they have sex. And feelings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, purely plotless smut. With feelings, as stated above, but if you're just here for the plot (not sure how that would've happened, but hi!!!) you can skip this without missing anything. I don't think there's anything here that would require updating the tags, but if I missed anything, I apologize, and please let me know.

Sam leaned against the wall outside the big bedroom, oddly reluctant to enter without the others. Even though Claire had been missing for weeks, something inside of him felt like stepping inside of that room without her would make it real. So he held up the wall until Dean and Cas came down the hall and Dean gave him the little nod that meant  _ I know _ and  _ I miss her, too _ and  _ we’ll get her back. _

He pushed off the wall as Cas opened the door, and followed the other two into the room, feeling uncharacteristically awkward in a way he hadn’t been about sex in a long time. Actually, Dean looked like he was feeling it, too, his shoulders tight and his fingers twitching at his sides as he sat down on the edge of the bed. Cas was the only one of the three of them who seemed even remotely calm.

“So, uh, how do we--” Dean started to say and then cut off abruptly. Sam barely noticed because, with a brief moment of disorientation, his uncertainty was joined in his head by mingled apprehension and sex-flavored excitement that was unmistakably Dean and a solid, steady thrum of power that could only be Cas

“Whoa,” Sam said, sitting down in the corner armchair abruptly as the experience of seeing the room through three different sets of eyes registered. “This is trippy as fuck.”

“Yeah,” Dean agreed. “That’s what I said, too. Having an extra person in the mix kinda magnifies it.”

“It must be difficult, being accustomed to only one set of sense organs,” Cas said patronizingly, and Sam and Dean shared a moment of wordless unity before Dean tripped Cas onto the bed.

_ Getting started without me?  _ Claire asked, her amusement joining the other emotions in his head. Sam started in his chair, because he knew, he  _ knew _ that there was no way she could be in the room, but there she was, smiling indulgently at them.

_ Claire? _ He felt his eyes filling despite his best efforts, and the next thing he knew, Claire was in his arms. A part of his mind kept trying to tell him that it wasn’t real, but Sam focused on everything that said it was--her warm, sweetly curved body pressed against his, the taste of her mouth, and he swore he could even smell her hair as he buried his fingers in its softness.

_ It’s me, _ she answered, and Sam didn’t even realize the tears were spilling over until he felt her hands on his face, wiping them away.  _ I’m here. _

_ Miss you,  _ he whispered, his mental voice as tiny, as private as he could make it. He could feel Dean and Cas politely turning their attention away, letting them have this moment.  _ Miss you so much, baby. _

_ Me, too, _ she whispered back.  _ Soon, I promise. I won’t need to stay here much longer.  _

_ If you get yourself hurt, I’m going to be pissed,  _ he said. Despite everything, being able to feel Claire’s laughter as well as hear it was one of the most beautiful things he’d ever experienced, bubbling up from inside her like what champagne was supposed to be. Like tasting stars.

_ And how many times have you died, again?  _ she asked, her mental voice still rich with amusement.  _ Hi, Pot, I’m Kettle. _

Sam shook his head.  _ Not the point. We’ve been lucky, really lucky. If we can just keep being lucky long enough to get you home… _

_ We will,  _ she said firmly.  _ I’m coming home.  _

They sat like that for a few moments until they felt the mood shift and looked over at the bed in time to see Cas pull Dean’s shirt up and over his head and toss it to the side before leaning back in to kiss him hungrily. Dean returned the kiss with interest, his fingers loosening Cas’s tie before busying themselves with the buttons on Cas’s shirt. 

_ Well, that’s not something I ever thought I’d see _ , Claire said, turning on Sam’s lap and leaning back against his chest.

Dean paused in his unbuttoning to flip her off, and took advantage of the fact that he could “talk” while his mouth was occupied.  _ Yeah, yeah. Just because I like pussy--a lot--I can’t like dick, too? That’s pretty narrow-minded of you guys. _

_ Says the man who freaked out when he thought another guy was hitting on him in a bar, _ Sam shot back, but after the last few weeks of watching Dean and Cas move into each other’s space even more than before (honestly, who hadn’t seen this coming?) he couldn’t put any real weight behind it. Especially since he could feel what both of them were feeling. 

The relief that suffused Dean as he put himself in Cas’s hands was a revelation, all the ways that Dean had been too tightly wound that Sam had never noticed suddenly relaxing, releasing. The near-awe that Cas directed at Dean almost felt too intimate for other people, like something that should be just between the two of them. 

But no sooner had Sam thought that than he felt negation coming from both men.  _ Need you here _ , Dean admitted, his mental voice gruff.  _ Part of me always thinks it’s not safe if you’re not here. Makes it harder. _

_ And not in a good way _ , Cas added, completely deadpan, only to make an undignified noise when Dean’s fingers dug unerringly into his ribs.

_ The point is,  _ Dean resumed, rolling his eyes,  _ it’s better when we’re together. All of us. _

Cas unbuckled Dean’s belt and tugged his zipper down, sliding to his knees as he pushed the jeans down Dean’s legs to the floor. 

Claire squirmed on Sam’s lap, the generous curve of her ass pressing against his cock, and he felt his libido roar back to life. He’d managed to suppress it, to bury it in research and worry and sleepless nights, but now he didn’t have to. He pulled Claire’s hair to the side and pressed his lips to her neck, unerringly finding the spot that made her shiver and sigh against him. Only this time, he knew exactly how it felt, the sensations that danced over her skin when he pressed open-mouthed kisses down the line of her neck, the spark of pleasure-pain when he scraped his teeth lightly over the spot where her neck flowed into her shoulder.

He felt it, too, when Cas leaned over and closed his mouth over Dean’s cock, sinking inexorably down until he’d taken in the entire length; felt Dean’s desperate struggle not to come with Cas’s throat tight and slick around the head of his cock, felt Cas’s heady satisfaction at how quickly and easily he could take Dean to the brink. The pleasure danced back and forth between the four of them in some sort of feedback loop, every sensation magnified fourfold, each touch feeding on the next. 

Sam had just registered the near-painful constriction of his jeans against his erection when they were gone, along with the rest of his clothes and Claire’s as well. They all felt it when Cas started jerking himself off in the same rhythm he was sucking Dean, and when Sam slid one hand up Claire’s thigh and into her pussy, the combination of that wet, tight heat around his fingers and feeling exactly what she felt when his fingertips brushed over her g-spot was nearly enough to make him come on the spot. 

_ I’m ready, _ Claire insisted. Sam took her at her word, lifting her up with his hands around her waist and lowering her slowly onto his cock, letting gravity do the work until he was as deep inside her as he could go. Sam slid his hands up her ribcage to cup her breasts and they both cried out as his thumbs brushed over her nipples, sending sensation shooting straight to her clit.

_ So that’s--fuck--what having a clit feels like _ , Dean commented, his mental voice almost breathless as he tried in vain to buck up into Cas’s mouth, pinned to the bed by the angel’s hands pressing down on his hips.

Sam could feel Claire about to make a sarcastic remark, so he rubbed his thumbs over her nipples again, his hips rolling up into her.  _ I’m not gonna last long at this rate, _ he told her.

_ None of us are _ , she agreed, shifting position until she had enough leverage to move. Even the little shifts were enough to have him gritting his teeth and shaking in his seat, but then she started to ride him and every conscious thought blanked out of his head. Everything was  _ hot _ and  _ wet _ and  _ more  _ and he honestly couldn’t separate who was feeling what.

And then they all came. Sam couldn’t have sworn, afterward, if one of them had come first and that set off the others, or if they all came simultaneously. All he knew for sure was that he came so hard he was pretty sure he’d passed out, that he only became aware of his body again when Cas used his powers to zap them all onto the bed together, and that this orgasm had been more intense than every other orgasm in his life. Combined.

_ Holy fuck,  _ Dean finally said from the other side of Claire, his voice reverent.  _ That was… _

_ Intense,  _ Claire supplied, snuggling down between them.  _ Epic. Literally mind-blowing.  _

_ All of that,  _ Sam agreed. 

_ Don’t know if I could handle that every time,  _ Dean admitted.  _ My heart isn’t what it used to be. _

Cas draped his arm over Dean’s waist, his fingertips just brushing Claire’s stomach.  _ I’ll do my best to remember that. _

They fell asleep like that, skin to skin. When Sam woke, Claire was gone (never there, his mind corrected), and he couldn’t decide if the sense of emptiness was from that or from being alone in his head once again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I keep harping on this, but seriously, the comments, the kudos, the subscriptions, they all make me so happy. Posting a piece of writing that I've worked really hard on is always terrifying for me, especially this one, because I wasn't getting that feedback from the comments, so I wasn't sure if things were making sense or if it was working at all. I'm so grateful to you guys for your feedback. *blows kisses*


	13. Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claire and Mandy come home; Claire and the boys put their heads together and try to figure out the best way to stop Crowley

_ Claire gives a sheaf of papers to a besuited flunky, who steps up to the throne and hands them over to Crowley. He peruses them for several long minutes, leafing through the stack, nodding in some places, frowning in others, before looking up at her. _

_ “This is all of it?” he asks _

_ “The entire demon tablet, fully translated to the best of my understanding,” she says. Her voice and face are as serene as always, only marred by a tightness around the eyes and the corners of her mouth that Crowley doesn’t seem to notice. _

_ “Excellent,” he says. “You’ve done well. Why don’t you take a day or two before you start on the angel tablet? Get some sun. You’re looking a bit peaked.” _

_ Claire doesn’t roll her eyes, but it looks like it takes an effort. “And where, exactly, do you propose I get some sun?” _

_ Crowley smiles slowly. “I might have been lying about the beach resort. We have a private one. Take your sister, too, why don’t you? I believe in rewarding good work.” _

_ Claire eyes him warily. “What’s the catch?” _

_ “No catch, love,” he says, waving a hand airily. “Not a chance in Hell, literally, of the two of you getting through the security we’ve got on the resort. And you’re no good to me if you work yourself to death. I like to think of you as an investment, one that will earn dividends for years to come if properly managed.” _

_ “Okay,” Claire says finally. “Thank you.”  _

_ If he notices that the words sound like they’re being dragged out of her, Crowley gives no sign. “No, my dear,” he says, returning to his examination of the papers. “Thank  _ you.”

* * *

They were in the middle of breakfast when Cas suddenly stiffened, his fork dropping onto the table with a clang and then bouncing to the floor. “It’s time,” he said, and disappeared, the whoosh of inrushing air the only sign that he’d ever been in the room.

Before Dean had time to do more than look over at Sam, Cas was back, flanked by two female figures. 

“Claire!” Dean blurted out, lunging up from his seat and nearly tripping over those stupid little stools as he did his level best to teleport to the other side of the table

By virtue of having longer legs and already being on the correct side of the table, Sam got there first, wrapping his arms around Claire and pulling her into his chest. Dean didn’t hesitate for a second, pressing himself into Claire’s back, as close as he could get, his arms around both of them. As real as it had felt when Cas connected them, mind to mind, there was still a part of him that had known, deep down, that it was an illusion, that it wasn’t actually happening. 

This, though. This was real. Claire was here, warm and safe and pressed so closely between him and Sam  that he could feel their breathing moving his body. Without looking, Dean reached out a hand and pulled Cas in, closing his eyes to savor the moment of having all the people he loved close enough to touch.

All too soon, Claire wriggled in their grasp, making a protesting noise, and Dean forced himself to release his grip. “Sorry,” he muttered, taking a reluctant step back, and Sam did the same.

“It’s okay,” she said, standing on tiptoe to kiss Sam, then Dean, then Cas. “I know. I missed you, too.”

“But you’re back now,” Dean said, his voice a little more gruff than usual as he forced the tears down and glanced over at the teenage girl still standing where Cas had left her, looking a little shell-shocked, the shape of her eyes and her face terribly familiar. “And I think introductions are in order.”

Claire followed his gaze. “Oh, yeah. Mandy, this is Sam, Dean, and Cas. Guys, this is my sister, Mandy--”

“Who is very confused,” the girl said, planting her hands on her hips. “You have three boyfriends? Also, where the fuck are we and how did we get here?”

Sam laughed out loud, and if it had a hysterical edge, they all pretended not to notice. “Well, she’s definitely your sister,” he said, sinking back down to sit on one of the stools attached to the table. 

Dean noticed that Mandy relaxed just the tiniest bit when Sam wasn’t looming over her anymore and put two and two together, finding his own stool. “Yep,” he agreed, watching the girl relax even further as Claire moved closer and slipped an arm around her waist. “No question.”

“Which still doesn’t answer mine,” the girl--Mandy, said tartly, but the edge had gone out of her voice. 

“To take them in order,” Claire said, “yes, I have three boyfriends.”

“Only because she won’t let us marry her,” Sam put in helpfully. “It’s not like we haven’t asked.”

Dean nodded. “A lot.  _ Someone’s _ all worried about ‘legality’ for some reason, but I think that’s just an excuse. Gay marriage is legal now, why not polyandry?” 

“Not to mention the fact that I have no legal status or citizenship, which makes obtaining a marriage license difficult” Cas added. “Although you’d think being an archangel would be enough, especially in America. And I fail to see why the government should be allowed to say who can and can’t get married.”

Claire and Mandy gave them identical unamused looks and Dean had to bite his lip to keep from laughing out loud.

“ _ Anyway, _ ” Claire said quellingly. “Sam and Dean are hunters, Cas is an archangel, and they’re all idiots a lot of the time, as you can see. We’re in their bunker. This is the safest place you could possibly be right now. Crowley couldn’t get in to get me, that’s why he used you to get me to come out.”

Mandy nodded once, and then again. “So basically, you’re shacking up with not one, not two, but three guys that you’re not married to, and one of them is an angel?”

“Basically, yes,” Claire said, her eyes wary.

The younger girl laughed. “I wish I could tell Mom & Dad, just to see the looks on their faces.”

An identical evil grin split Claire’s face. “It’s not worth having to see them again, but the thought had occurred to me. I just like to think that they sometimes twitch uncontrollably for no reason they can think of.”

“Yessss,” Mandy said, her smile widening. 

“C’mon,” Claire said, steering her sister out of the kitchen and into the library. “Let’s find you a room and then I’ll show you the showers. The water pressure here is great; you can stay in there as long as you want.”

“I may never leave,” Mandy said, her voice trailing off to near inaudibility as they walked.

Dean tried to wipe the stupid sappy grin off his face, but when he looked over at Sam and Dean he saw identical expressions on both of their faces, so he gave up.

“She’s home,” he said softly, and Cas’s hand landed on his shoulder as Sam’s smile widened.

“Yeah,” his brother said, looking more relaxed than he had in weeks. “It’s over.”

* * *

“How’s she doing?” Sam asked, looking as Claire came back into the library after having settled Mandy into one of the extra bedrooms and sitting with her until she fell asleep.

Claire sighed, moving across the room to settle into his lap, and she had to swallow hard to keep from bursting into tears. “She’s exhausted, obviously, and not just physically. Crowley didn’t touch her, but it was rough, being in Hell, and from what she said, she was on her own for awhile before that. It’s going to take time for her to really feel safe.”

“Makes sense,” Sam said, wrapping his arms around her, and Claire leaned her head against his shoulder, breathing in the smell of flannel and skin and Sam. “How are  _ you _ doing? It’s been a rough few weeks for all of us, but you’ve been having to hold it together in front of Crowley, which isn’t easy.”

“I--” Claire blinked hard as her voice broke. “I’m a lot better now that I’m home.”

Sam’s arms tightened around her. “Me, too.”

They sat in silence for a few minutes until Claire could work up the will to do anything other than sit there and bask in the feeling of safety. But finally, she sighed and reached out to Cas with the little mental twist that had become almost second nature.  _ Cas? You and Dean should probably get down to the library so we can talk about things. _

_ On our way,  _ Cas replied.  _ Are you well? _

_ I will be,  _ Claire said, doing her best to project her watery smile down their bond.

Cas responded with a mental caress, the feeling of a hand stroking through her hair and down her back, and Claire closed her eyes and savored it for the short time until Dean and Cas made it back to the library.

“Okay, no, this isn’t gonna work,” Dean said as soon as he walked through the door.

“What?” Claire asked, looking around. “What’s wrong?”

“There’s no place in here for us to all sit together,” Dean replied, tugging her up off Sam’s lap. “Let’s move this to the bedroom.”

Sam raised his eyebrows. “Is this really the time?”

Dean smacked him in the back of the head without looking. “Get your mind out of the gutter, Sammy. It’s not about that. We’re all together again; we should be  _ together _ , not sitting in separate chairs.”

“Okay,” Sam conceded, pushing to his feet. “Let’s go.”

Once they were cuddled together on the bed, Claire could feel them all relaxing even further, leaning into each other. 

“This was a good idea,” Cas conceded, running his fingers through Dean’s hair where the other man’s head was pillowed on his lap. Claire couldn’t hold back her grin at the way Dean arched into the touch, his legs twined with hers like he couldn’t bring himself to not be touching her.

“Yeah,” Sam agreed from her other side, his arms around her as she leaned back against his chest. 

Dean’s grin spread smugly across his face, even though he didn’t open his eyes. “Of course it was. I had it.”

“ _ Anyway _ ,” Claire said after sharing a look with Sam and Cas. “You got me and Mandy out, but this isn’t over.”

“Why not?” Dean asked. “Crowley’s got the tablets, but no prophet, so they’re basically useless, right?”

“He also has the translation of the demon tablet that I gave him,” Claire pointed out. “Me being gone is going to throw off his original plan, but I wouldn’t put it past him to use the spells from the tablet to beef up his army and still try to take out Heaven. He’ll take more casualties without having the angel tablet to weaken them, but Crowley strikes me as more of a big-picture guy.”

“Yeah, he won’t let a little thing like increased casualties slow him down,” Sam agreed. 

Cas frowned. “So how do we stop him?”

“Well, first of all, I left out a few things when I was translating the demon tablet,” Claire said. “Nothing major or noticeable, but none of those spells will actually make the demons more powerful. That’s why I needed Cas to pull us out when he did. If Crowley had tried those spells and realized I screwed him over, he would’ve taken it out on Mandy. If he realizes it before he tries to attack, that’ll buy us some time.”

“What if he doesn’t realize?” Dean asked. “What if he just works the spells and heads out? Can the angels hold up against an all-out assault?”

Cas’s frown deepened. “I--I don’t know. Perhaps. Such an attack would have repercussions, though. Just as we couldn’t force our way into Hell to get Claire back, an attack on Heaven is likely to cause massive damage and loss of life here on Earth.”

“But Crowley would know that,” Sam pointed out. “Would he want that? He helped us stop the apocalypse, he likes Earth the way it is. Why would he risk destroying his source of souls? What’s his endgame?”

Cas sat bolt upright, ignoring Dean’s protesting noise as he was almost dumped unceremoniously off of the angel’s lap. “Maybe he’s not planning an all-out attack.”

Dean frowned. “How else could he take down Heaven? It’s not like he’s been there before.”

“No, but maybe he has someone helping him,” Cas said grimly. “Someone who  _ has _ been there before, many times. We never did locate Metatron after his escape.”

Claire let her head fall back against Sam’s chest. “Shit.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> dun dun DUN!!!! I would say sorry about the end-of-chapter cliffhangers this time, but I'm feeling a lot more evil this time around.


	14. One More Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The demon tablet holds some answers...but at what cost.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, like, the last half of the chapter is smut, so if that's not your thing, or if you're somewhere where you can't read explicit things, you can stop reading when you get to the scene that starts with "Sam and Dean looked up expectantly..."

“I have to warn them,” Cas said, gently but firmly disentangling himself from Dean. “If Crowley is coming, the angels deserve to know.”

“I know,” Dean said gruffly, hesitating over his next words for several long moments. He finally huffed out a breath and surged up to peck Cas on the mouth, a quick, chaste press of lips. “Be safe.”

Cas blinked slowly at him. “I… will.” It was another long moment before he disappeared, the cool air of the bedroom stirring as he left.

“What?” Dean asked defensively, avoiding their eyes as he sank back down on the bed and cuddling against Claire’s side. “I thought we had this conversation. A lot.”

“Nothing,” Sam said. “We’d probably better get busy if we’re going to figure out a way to stop Crowley.”

Claire sighed, rolling over and burying her face in his chest. “Ugh. Why can’t we just stay in bed forever instead?”

“I’ll second that,” Dean mumbled, wrapping himself around her. “Just stay here and let the angels and demons sort it out for once.”

“You think Cas is gonna stay out of it?” Sam asked, sliding out of the bed and pulling Claire with him. 

Dean groaned. “Fuck. No.”

“Come on, guys,” Sam said, offering Dean a hand. “Let’s go save the world one more time.”

“So how do we do this?” Dean asked, passing out beers. “Claire stopped Crowley from using the demon tablet to buff his army, but we need more than that. We need a way to stop him once and for all, but he’s still got the tablets--what?”

Sam kept his eyebrows raised. “‘Buff?’ Since when are you using gamer terminology?”

Dean rolled his eyes. “You’re not the only one who has to listen to Charlie go on, and on, and on about this shit. Sometimes it soaks in. Can we focus on something other than my expanded vocabulary?”

“There was something…” Claire’s voice trailed off as she opened her backup laptop. “Oh, fuck yes. Charlie got all the backups I sent her of the demon tablet translations.”

“Okay, but didn’t you translate those wrong?” Dean asked.

“The ones I sent Crowley were translated wrong,” she corrected him smugly. “These are the original, correct translations; I sent them to Charlie to save for me and then I made sure they were wiped off the laptop I had there.”

Sam leaned over her shoulder. “Is there a way to do the reverse of the spells Crowley wanted? Make them weaker instead of stronger?”

Claire smiled, fingers flying over the keyboard. “I may actually be able to do you one better, if I remember correctly.”

Dean frowned. “Not the trials to close Hell, right? Because we tried that, and it nearly killed Sammy. I’m not sacrificing any of you, not even for this.”

“No, no,” she assured him, slowing down and looking closer at the pages on her screen. “This is better. Probably. If I was translating it right; I wasn’t super concerned with giving Crowley my best work for some reason.”

“Can’t imagine why,” Sam said. “Are you going to tell us what you think you found? Or leave us in suspense a little longer?”

“Well…” Claire drew out the word until Sam reached down, his fingers digging into her ribcage and sending her arching away from his touch. “Okay, okay, I give! Stop!”

He settled back into the chair on her right and took a long pull of his beer, lips curved in a smug smile, and Claire had to look down at her computer to hide her own smile. 

“So, demons were originally human souls, right?” she said, flicking to a different page. “Lucifer, and then Alistair tortured them until they became demons.”

“Yeah,” Dean agreed. “When we were doing the trials, we found out that you can cure a demon if you inject them with purified human blood.”

Claire nodded absently, her eyes running down the page on the screen. “But that’s just one at a time, right? And there are thousands of demons.”

“At a minimum,” Sam said, nodding. “There’s not enough time, even if we could catch each and every one.”

“And there’s that whole death thing,” Dean put in. “It might’ve been the trials, but it might not.”

“Except,” Claire said triumphantly, looking up from her screen, “the demon tablet has a spell that can cure them all at once. Return their souls to human, let them find peace.”

Sam raised his eyebrows. “All of them? How?”

She turned the laptop so they could see the page on the screen. “We’ll need Crowley.”

Sam leaned in to study the page. “And Cas.”

“Yeah.”  _ Cas?  _ Claire sent.  _ Whenever you get done, we need to talk. _

_ My experience with human television and movies indicates that those words are never a good sign, _ he returned, his mental voice somehow tasting of amusement.  _ Should I be worried? _

_ About us? No,  _ she answered, smiling despite herself.  _ I think we have a way to end this. But I don’t know how you’re going to feel about it. _

_ I see,  _ he said.  _ I’ll return home soon; I’ve nearly done all that I can here.  _

_ Yeah. Come home soon. _

_ I will.  _ His presence brushed over her mind in a fleeting caress, and she felt her shoulders relaxing.  _ Don’t worry. We’ll find a way. We always do. _

* * *

Sam and Dean both looked up expectantly as Claire slipped into the bedroom and closed the door quietly behind her. “How’s your sister?” Dean asked gruffly.

“Still asleep,” Claire answered, sitting down on the foot of the bed with a sigh. “Poor kid. I don’t think she got a single good night’s sleep while we were in Hell. Not that I did, either.”

“You’re here now,” Sam said softly, sitting down next to her and wrapping an arm around her shoulders. “It’s safe.”

“I know,” she said, leaning into his side. “Part of me just wants to sleep for a week. Or maybe a month.”

Dean slid his hand around the back of her neck, squeezing just a little. “What about the rest of you?”

She smiled slowly, enjoying the slow curl of heat in her belly. “The rest of me is reminding me, very loudly, of how long it’s been since I had actual, physical sex. I mean, I was gone for like a month.”

“Oh, yeah?” Sam murmured, letting his hand slide down to rest on the curve of her hip. “Which part are you going to listen to?”

“Wellllll…” she said, drawing the word out consideringly, “I think probably the sex part is louder right now.”

“That makes sense,” Dean said, sliding his hand down her back and tugging her shirt up and over her head. “You’ll probably sleep better afterward.”

“Probably,” Claire agreed, smiling and lifting her hips to let him pull her jeans down and drop them on the floor. 

She gasped in a breath as Sam lifted her into his lap, fisting his hand in her hair and kissing her hungrily until she moaned helplessly into his mouth. She felt herself melting against him, the last bit of tension left in her unwinding so suddenly that she felt light-headed with the relief. Here, she didn’t have to worry, didn’t have to weigh options and choose the best one, with her life and her sister’s sanity and the fate of the world at stake. Here she could go where she was put, let Sam and Dean move her where they would, could float on the waves of pleasure and let them take her under, secure in the knowledge that her boys would bring her safely to shore.

Sam tore his mouth away from hers, using the hand in her hair to tug her head back, his mouth unerringly finding all of the places on her neck that made her shiver against him. Right now, though, after so long alone, every inch of her skin felt sensitized, every nerve ending wired directly to her clit. His free hand curved around her hip and pulled her down, the long, thick line of his erection pressing between her legs, rough denim rubbing against the damp cotton of her panties and the bare skin of her thighs, and they both groaned at the sensation.

“Fuck, baby,” he growled against her skin, rolling his hips up and scraping his teeth lightly over the curve where her neck met her shoulder. “Missed you so much. Every day.”

“Me, too,” she gasped, arching her back as Dean’s fingers unhooked her bra, pulling it away, and then the rub of Sam’s t-shirt against her nipples made her moan again. 

She found the hem of his shirt after a few tries, suddenly desperate for the feel of skin on skin, and Sam reluctantly let go of her long enough to let her pull it off before pulling her back in. He captured her mouth in a hot, hungry kiss before licking his way down to her breasts, trailing his tongue in teasing, torturous circles around her left nipple until she threaded her hands through his hair and pulled his head down to her breast. He chuckled, his breath gusting across her skin, and closed his mouth obediently over her nipple.

“Getting bossy on us, sweetheart?” Dean asked, and she opened her eyes (when had she closed them?) to see him sitting back against the headboard, naked, one hand stroking slowly over his cock.

“I--ah, fuck, Sam--I don’t have a lot of patience for teasing right now,” she said, a little impressed with herself for managing to string together that many words when Sam’s mouth was on her nipple, his long, clever fingers busy with the other. 

He lifted his head briefly. “Guess I’d better get to work, huh?” His hand pressed her down, his hips rolled up, and there were no words, just the sensations zinging from her nipples to her clit and back again, winding tighter and tighter and harder and faster until she came with a cry, her hands locking in his hair.

“There you, go, baby,” Sam murmured in her ear when she finally stopped shaking against him, his hands rubbing up and down her back. “Always so good for us. Want you so much. Can you lift up for me?”

Claire nodded, lifting up on her knees and letting him unbutton his jeans and shove them and his boxers down his legs, freeing his cock to bounce against his stomach, leaving shiny smears of precome. It probably would have been faster, less awkward, for her to move off of him entirely, but neither of them wanted to separate for that long. 

Finally, Sam kicked his legs free of his jeans and slid his hands up her legs, slipping first one thick finger, then two inside her pussy, and Claire let her head fall back and her eyes slide closed at the delicious stretch. 

“So fucking tight,” Sam muttered, curling his fingers to drag them over her g-spot, his lips curving against her neck when he felt her shiver against him. “Missed you so much, baby, can’t wait to fuck you, get inside this pretty pussy. Gonna make you feel so good.”

“Please,” she moaned, “please, Sam, I’m ready, please, fuck me--”

She felt him suck in a deep breath and then his fingers were sliding out of her, but she only had seconds to regret the loss before they were replaced by the blunt head of his cock, pressing her open. Even after his fingers, the stretch was so intense as to be almost painful, but she let gravity take over until she’d sunk all the way down, shifting slightly to make sure he was buried as deeply inside her as possible. 

“Fuck,” he groaned when she shifted again. “Oh, fuck, Claire, baby, please tell me you’re close. Not gonna last long, you feel so good…”

“I’m close,” she gasped, lifting up and then back down, moaning at the feeling of him, hot and hard and thick inside her pussy. “God, Sam, I’m so close--”

She cut off abruptly as his hands closed on her breasts, rubbing his thumbs over her nipples, and she started to move, unable to stop herself, fucking herself on his cock, her clit grinding against him on every downstroke. 

She came in an embarrassingly short amount of time, an orgasm that seemed to go on forever, wave after wave of pleasure shaking her body apart, until finally she had to drag his hands away from her breasts and lift completely off of his cock, taking long, deep breaths to try to slow her racing heart as she leaned against his chest, his arms wrapped around her.

“Better?” Sam asked when she finally lifted her head.

“Yeah,” she said quietly. “Sorry, it was--”

“Baby,” he interrupted, brushing her hair tenderly back from her face. “Do you have any idea how fucking hot it is to watch you come like that? To feel you come like that? You don’t ever have to apologize for anything we do in bed, okay?”

She nodded, pressing a kiss to his shoulder. “Okay. But what about you?”

“Oh, I’m gonna get mine,” he promised darkly. “Get on your hands and knees for me, baby.”

She obeyed as quickly as possible with aftershocks still shaking through her limbs, sighing when she felt him line himself up and push back inside her, her body accepting him easily this time, his hands closing on her hips. 

“There we go,” he breathed, fucking her with slow, measured strokes. “Now, what’re we going to do about Dean?”

Claire looked up at the man in question, who was jerking himself a little harder, his hips arching up with each pull of his hand. “I don’t know,” she said as casually as she could manage. “He seems to be enjoying himself. Do we have to do anything about him?”

Sam’s hand landed on her ass with a smack, and Dean smirked at her when she jolted, more from the sound than the sting. “That’s not very nice, sweetheart,” he chided, rolling to his knees in one liquid movement. “I missed you, too, you know.”

“I know,” she said breathlessly, unable to stop herself from licking her lips with his cock right there at eye level. “Sorry.”

“You can make it up to me,” he said, rubbing his thumb over her lower lip. “Open up, sweetheart.”

She opened her mouth obediently, darting her tongue out to lick over the head of his cock before he pushed it inside her mouth, short, shallow thrusts until she got used to the stretch and relaxed her jaw.

They rocked her between them, Sam’s thrusts into her pussy pushing her onto Dean’s cock and Dean’s moving her back onto Sam’s. Dean’s hands were in her hair, cradling her face, and Sam’s were wrapped around her waist, and she could let go, lose herself, because this was safety and familiarity. This was home. She could feel herself climbing toward another orgasm, as much because of the way they surrounded her as because of the movement of their bodies in hers.

“Fuck,” Dean swore, his movements losing their rhythm. “Fuck, sweetheart, gonna come--” and she tightened her lips around his cock and swallowed him down as he came. Sam wasn’t far behind, picking up the pace when Dean slipped out of her mouth and sank back onto the bed. She dropped her forehead to the mattress, bracing herself on her arms as Sam pounded into her. His breath came in deep, rough gasps as his hands tightened around her waist, thrusting once, twice, three times until he pressed himself deep inside her and came, shuddering. He stayed frozen above her for several long moments before he pulled out and collapsed down to the bed on the other side of her.

“Jesus, Sammy,” Dean said. “She didn’t come that time. What’d I tell you about that shit?”

“Sorry,” Sam mumbled. “Gimme a sec.”

“Nah, I got it,” Dean said, and then his hands were turning her gently over, lifting her legs over his shoulders, his tongue licking warmly over her clit. She moaned, her hips arching up toward his face, then again when his fingers slid inside of her pussy, curling up to rub across her g-spot as his tongue flicked across the place at the base of her clit that made her legs shake. He drove her mercilessly upward until she was grinding her pussy into his face, unaware of anything except her need to come, sobbing out moans and half-formed pleas and his name, until he finally, finally closed his mouth over her clit and she came screaming.

He gentled her down, pressing a kiss to her inner thigh when she finally managed to unlock her thighs from around his head, and crawled up to lie next to her, one arm draped across her waist. 

By the time Claire’s breathing had returned to normal, she was yawning uncontrollably. Sam had thrown an arm and a leg over her from his side, his breathing already slow and even, and she could see Dean’s eyelids fluttering closed. 

“Sleep for a week?” he murmured.

She made an assenting noise, and that was the last thing she remembered before she sank into the warm, familiar sensations and sleep claimed her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just five more chapters to go! (and I don't know why AO3 keeps changing the total number of chapters to ? when I keep putting it in, but oh, well). I'm so grateful to every one of you who's stuck with me for this!!!


	15. Safe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The plan, and the cost, is revealed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tags have been updated; almost everything mentioned here is canon-typical, but please consider your own mental health.

Claire drifted in a half-asleep haze, unwilling to climb any further toward waking. Right now she was surrounded by warmth and comfort, a muscular arm over her waist and a firm body pressed against her back, legs tangled with hers and a shoulder under her head. She let herself float there, basking in the deep, almost subconscious awareness that she was home, that she was safe, listening to the three distinct sets of breathing that meant all of her men were there with her.

Slowly, however, her body started to make its opinion known, nudging her more towards waking as it pointed out the hard, thick length of Sam’s cock nudging against the curve of her ass, the way Dean’s fingers were stroking slowly, maddeningly, across that spot on her neck that made her crazy, the soft, wet sounds of kissing.

Claire opened her eyes slowly and realized that she had a front-row seat for the Dean and Cas Make-Out Show. They were so fucking gorgeous together that for a moment it just seemed unreal, Cas’s hands gently cradling Dean’s face, Dean’s mouth opening softly under Cas’s, their lips pressing and clinging together. Cas shifted a little more over Dean, clearly using his weight to pin the other man to the mattress, and Dean made a little whining noise in the back of his throat, his fingers digging into the long, lean muscles of Cas’s back.

_ Enjoying the show?  _ Cas asked, his mental voice amused, but she knew him well enough now to feel the tiny hint of uncertainty underneath.

_ Mmm, very much, _ she returned, wrapping up the combination of aesthetic appreciation and arousal that she was feeling and pushing it gently towards him along their link.  _ You two are beautiful together. _

_ I wasn’t certain how you’d feel about it,  _ Cas admitted.

_ He was yours first,  _ Claire returned, sending the mental equivalent of a reassuring hug.  _ Besides, it’d be really hypocritical of me to complain about him loving more than one person. _

_ Nevertheless-- _

“Hey,” Dean complained, pouting a little. “Think you two could share this conversation with the rest of the class?”

“Now you know how it feels,” Claire retorted, but she couldn’t stop herself from leaning over to kiss him as well, savoring the soft, wet pressure of his lips and even the slightly stale taste of his morning breath, because that meant this was real. It wasn’t a dream or a fantasy, she wasn’t going to wake up and find herself still in Crowley’s clutches, or alone in her too-big apartment, dreaming wistfully of three imaginary men. This was here and now and real, with Dean’s mouth opening under hers and his hand tightening on her neck, Cas’s lips pressing soft, teasing kisses across her shoulder, Sam’s hand on her belly sliding tantalizingly lower--

\--and the door to the bedroom opened abruptly, banging into the wall. “What’s a girl got to do to get breakfast around--ew, Jesus, get a room! My eyes!”

“We have a room,” Claire replied as calmly as possible. Even though most of their bodies were still covered by sheets and blankets, Mandy had clearly gotten an eyeful, judging by the hand over her eyes. “One which you just barged into without knocking, so any trauma is entirely your own fault. There’s cereal in the kitchen, you can help yourself. We’ll be out later.”

“Fine,” Mandy muttered, ostentatiously feeling her way along the wall to the door with her free hand while keeping the other firmly over her eyes. “The soundproofing in this place better be fucking amazing.”

The four of them lay in silence for several seconds, not daring to make eye contact, until Claire accidentally caught Dean’s eye and the two of them started laughing helplessly, Sam and Cas joining in.

“Well, there went my boner,” Dean sighed once they’d finally caught their breath. “Might as well get up and make breakfast. Who wants waffles?”

* * *

“What’s the plan?” Cas asked once the breakfast dishes had been cleared away. “And why don’t you think I’ll like it?”

Claire twirled a strand of hair around her finger until Sam pulled her down into his lap, his hands rubbing soothingly up and down her arms, helping to ground the nervous energy vibrating through her. “When I was translating the demon tablet, the versions I gave Crowley had mistakes in them, but first I sent the correct ones to Charlie for safekeeping, so I’d--we’d have them once you got me out.”

Cas nodded, gesturing for her to go on.

“But while I was translating the tablet, I came across a spell that would actually cure every demon. All at once. Poof, no more demons, just the human souls they used to be before they were tortured into becoming what they are.”

Cas raised his eyebrows. “What’s the catch?”

“Well, first of all, we need Crowley,” she said, still not meeting his eyes. “Which might not be even doable. But as the King of Hell, even though there are factions that sometimes oppose him, he has a connection to every living demon. We need that for the spell to work.”

“We can get Crowley,” Dean said. “Totally doable. He’s not as smart as he thinks he is. What else?”

Claire forced herself to meet Cas’s eyes. “To power the spell, we need an archangel’s Grace. And it doesn’t say what happens to you at the end of it. Maybe you end up a normal angel again, but maybe you’re human. Maybe you die. There’s no way to know without trying.”

“I… see.” Cas said slowly. “How much preparation would the spell require, assuming you had Crowley and myself available?”

Claire twisted around so she could look back at Sam. “About a day or so?”

“Yeah, maybe a little less,” he agreed. “It’s not a complicated spell, it just takes a lot of raw power. Which is why we need an archangel.”

“Well, then,” Cas said. “There’s little time to waste. How do we get Crowley?”

“That’s it?” Dean asked. “No second thoughts, just right to it?”

Cas reached over and took Dean’s hand in his. “We don’t have much time. Crowley could be preparing to attack even now. I’m a soldier, Dean. I’ve been protecting human souls from demons for the entirety of your history, thousands of thousands of years. If there’s a chance to rid humanity of demonic influence, forever? It’s worth it. Even if I die, it’s worth it. You can’t tell me you wouldn’t do the same. That you haven’t done the same.”

“Yeah, well, you can’t expect me to be happy about it,” Dean retorted. “It’s not bad enough that Sammy keeps trying to sacrifice himself to save the world, now you are, too?”

Claire and Sam shared a speaking glance, but managed to keep their mouths shut through sheer force of will, at least on Claire’s part, despite the comments about pots and kettles and the color thereof that were dancing on the tip of her tongue.

Cas smiled sadly at him. “I don’t want to die. Now, more than ever, Dean, I have so much to live for. But this is something I have to do.”

“Yeah,” Dean muttered grudgingly, his voice rough. “So. How do we get Crowley?”

They sat in silence for a few moments, all of them looking over at Mandy in surprise when she cleared her throat. “You could use me as bait.”

“No. No way,” Claire said, rocketing off Sam’s lap and taking her sister’s face in her hands. “I just got you out of there. You’re not going to offer yourself up. We’ll find another way.”

“Will you find another way in time?” Mandy asked, lifting her chin defiantly. “I don’t know everything that’s going on here, but I know enough to figure out that a lot of people are going to die if you guys can’t do this spell in time. And what the fuck even is your life that we’re sitting here talking about demons and archangels and spells, Claire?”

Claire laughed a little helplessly, dropping her forehead to Mandy’s. “Are you sure about this, honey?”

“No,” Mandy admitted. “But I want to help.”

“It could work,” Dean said, holding up his hands defensively when Claire spun around to glare at him. “Well, it could! We can keep her safe, sweetheart.”

“We don’t have to do it like this,” Claire said, pacing across the kitchen. “I can be the bait, we don’t have to involve Mandy.”

Sam shook his head. “He’ll be able to tell something’s wrong if it’s you. No way you’d leave the bunker so soon after being kidnapped if it wasn’t a trick. But a teenage girl, one that he thinks isn’t familiar with the dangers of the supernatural world… that might work.”

Claire opened her mouth, ready to storm out of the room in a cloud of curses, but she stopped herself. One thing everyone was right about; they didn't have any time to waste. “We are going to have words after this,” she promised, making eye contact with both Sam and Dean. “But we don’t have time right now. Convince me that we can keep her safe. Because if we can’t, she’s not taking a step outside this door.”

* * *

Mandy blinked as she and Cas appeared in the nondescript motel room, two double beds with generic floral bedspreads and strangely patterned carpet designed to hide stains. The air moved softly around them for a moment, then settled quickly back into stillness. “Dude, that’s pretty cool. You sure you want to give that up?”

The angel smiled at her, his eyes a little sad, and yeah, okay, for an old dude, he wasn’t bad looking. Claire had gotten seriously lucky. 

“The power isn’t mine, not really. I took it on to save someone I… love, very much. It’s allowed me to keep my loved ones safe, for the most part, and I’m grateful. But if it’s time to lay it down and live a human life?” He shrugged. “There are worse fates than living out a human lifespan with those I love.”

“Yeah, but I heard Claire,” she said, not sure why she was pushing. “That’s just a maybe. You could die.”

“You could die walking across the street,” Cas returned gently. “Do you plan to stay inside forever?”

Mandy shook her head. “I just still don’t get it.” 

Cas sighed a little and sat down on one of the beds. “As Claire’s sister, I imagine you had a similarly Biblical education growing up?”

“More verses memorized than you can shake a stick at,” Mandy affirmed a little bitterly, plopping down onto the other bed to sit cross-legged, facing him. “Not that I could tell you any of them now.”

“Then you know that the first thing an angel usually says when appearing to a human is ‘Fear not,’” he said. “As I said to Dean, I’m a soldier. My job, ever since the first human was tempted by Lucifer, has been to protect humans from demonic influence. What many of my brothers and sisters have forgotten, after thousands of years of war, is that demons were once human souls.”

Mandy blinked several times. “What? How?”

“Lucifer--” Cas hesitated, closing his eyes. “Lucifer resented humans for what he saw as stealing our Father’s attention from him. So he set out to prove just how horrible they really were, deep down. He tempted humans into signing over their souls, and then he tortured them until only demons remained.”

Silence filled the room for several long minutes.

“Sometimes--” Mandy said quietly, barely able to force the words out, “--sometimes when something horrible happens, and it just keeps happening, it seems like the only way to survive is to be just as bad.”

Cas’s forehead furrowed as he nodded, his eyes sad. “But each and every one of those souls was human, once upon a time. I was sworn to protect them, and I--we, failed them. This is not just about protecting Heaven, although I don’t like to think about demons with free reign on Earth. This is about those souls. They’ve been tortured and broken; they deserve peace.”

“Okay,” Mandy said slowly. “Then I guess you’d better get out of here so I can do my thing.”

Between one breath and the next, a leather satchel appeared on the bed next to her. “Everything you need should be in the bag,” Cas said, standing. “If you need me, say my name and I’ll come.” 

He hesitated for a moment before resting a hand lightly on her shoulder, watching her face closely for any signs of discomfort. “You’re safe,” he promised, his voice quiet but firm. “No matter what else happens tonight, you will be safe.”

She nodded, her throat tight, and made a shooing motion in his direction. He smiled and was gone, the air rushing in softly to fill the space where he’d been.

Mandy opened the bag and pulled out the piece of paper on top of the other contents. “Time to get to work,” she said, doing her best to ignore the way her voice echoed in the otherwise empty room.

* * *

Mandy took a deep breath and set the knife against her forearm.

“Not the hand or the fingers,” Dean had advised her gruffly when he gave her the blade. “Those are a bitch to deal with until they heal. Shallow’s fine, too. Better if you have to cut again than if you cut too deep and damage something important.” 

She hadn’t had the heart to show him the silvery scars on her legs, faded after more than a year of healing, or tell him that she probably knew more about how and where to cut than he did. Now she braced herself and made a shallow slice, holding her arm over the brass bowl, the heat from the closest candle flickering against her skin. 

She felt the familiar sharp shock of pain, watched the blood bloom along the line of the cut and tilted her arm so that the blood dripped onto the small pile of herbs in the bottom of the bowl. It was mesmerizing, and for a moment it was so tempting to lose herself in the rush of adrenaline, to set the knife to her skin again and again. To feel. But she was here for a reason.

“ _ Et ad congregandum… _ ” she began. 

“Well, well,” said a familiar voice. “What have we here?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you ever feel the urge to hurt yourself, please find help. [this website](http://www.crisischat.org/find-resources/#SI) has good resources, and there are many others. You are important. You are valuable. The world needs you.


	16. Deal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mandy makes Crowley an offer he can't refuse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nothing new to tag for, but some allusions to the things that have already been tagged. Please consider your own mental health when reading!

“I have to say, I wasn’t expecting an invitation,” Crowley said as Mandy whirled around to face him. He ran a finger along the credenza holding the ancient tube television, inspecting it with a look of distaste before turning his attention back to her. “To what do I owe the honor?”

“I want to make a deal,” she said, grateful that her voice remained steady. “That’s what you do, isn’t it? Make deals?”

“Oh, once upon a time,” he said airily, clasping his hands behind his back. “These days I’m in more of a management position. But you weren’t trying to get me, were you, love? Looking for someone a little lower on the totem pole? Someone who might not realize who you were?”

She dropped her eyes to the ugly, unnecessarily shaggy carpet. “I…”

He made a soft tsking noise. “Now, that isn’t to say we can’t work something out. I’m… surprised that you’d be interested in a deal, after being my guest, but I’m also intrigued. Tell me, little one, what do you want so badly?”

“I--” Mandy sucked in a breath and met his eyes. “I want to be safe. I want to have to stop looking over my shoulder, wondering if my parents are going to find me and drag me back with them. I’d rather die than go back there.”

“I see,” Crowley said slowly. “You do know the usual rate of exchange for these deals? You’d be safe for a few years, but in the end, you’d still be looking over your shoulder until the hounds come for you.”

“What if I had something else to trade?” she asked, her voice barely audible.

He raised a condescending eyebrow. “And what, exactly, do you have to trade, other than your questionable value as bait for your sister? If you think I believe that she’ll come after you again when you’ve clearly left her behind, you’re not as smart as you look.”

Mandy pulled a flash drive out of her pocket, her fingers shaking slightly. “I copied the demon tablet translations off her computer. Not the useless ones she gave you; the real ones she sent back to use herself once we escaped. Give me protection, and they’re all yours.”

Crowley made an abortive gesture in her direction before tucking his hands behind his back again. “I see. Clever little monkey, aren’t you?”

“Do we have a deal?” Mandy asked, tucking the drive back into her pocket.

“Well, that depends,” he said, smirking at her. “Did anyone ever tell you how demons seal their deals?”

Mandy made a face, nausea churning in her gut, and nodded, unable to meet his eyes.

“I can honestly say,” Crowley said, taking a slow, deliberate step into her space, “this is probably going to be worse for you than it is for me.”

He reached for her, and she took an involuntary step backward, just out of his reach. He shook his head and folded his arms. “I’m not here to play chase, love. If you don’t want to deal, I can always take it from you by force.”

“Cas,” Mandy said, taking another step back. “Now would be a really good time.”

Rage and realization dawned on Crowley’s face and he lunged for her, only to be brought up short just as Cas, Sam, Dean, and Claire blinked into the room.

“How?” Crowley snarled.

Mandy picked up the flashlight on the table and shone it on the floor at his feet. The devil’s trap shimmered into existence, glowing in the light.

“Only shows up under UV,” Dean said, shaking the spray paint can, casually. “Handy stuff. You going to come quietly or not?”

Crowley rolled his eyes and held out his hands. “I guess it’s time for the next ride on the Winchester roller coaster. Let’s do it. The sooner we get started, the sooner I can get back to work.”

Mandy tucked the light away and Crowley looked over at her as Sam snapped the demon handcuffs closed around his wrists. “Let me know if you ever want to actually change sides, girl. I like your style.”

She shook her head slowly. “I don’t think so.”

“You never know,” he said.

Between one breath and the next they were gone, the motel room wiped away like a cut in a movie and being replaced by the library in the bunker. It was just Claire and Mandy, the men presumably having taken Crowley somewhere else.

“Are you okay?” Claire asked, pulling her into a hug.

“You know,” Mandy said slowly. “I think I actually am.”

“Good,” Claire said firmly, squeezing her a little tighter before letting go. “I heard what you said to him. It was pretty convincing.”

Mandy shrugged, feeling herself withdraw. “Yeah, well, you know I’ve always been a pretty good actress. Got better after you left.”

Claire let go, but stayed close. “All I meant was, you can stay here for as long as you want.”

“Careful,” Mandy joked, blinking hard. “Next thing you know I’m going to be forty and still living on your couch.”

“As long as you want,” Claire said firmly. “And if Mom and Dad try to come after you, I’ll sic Cas on ‘em.”

Mandy surprised herself by laughing out loud. “Oh, damn. Now I almost wish they would, just so I could see that.”

Claire smiled, a fierce baring of teeth that woke echoes in Mandy’s memory. “They can try.”

Mandy swallowed hard, feeling something relax for the first time in years, since the first time her door had opened in the middle of the night. She hugged Claire again, burying her face in her sister’s shoulder, and they both pretended she wasn’t crying.

* * *

“Well, this is a step up from the last time,” Crowley said, surveying the large empty garage as Sam and Dean locked him into the chair in the center, while Cas stood by, radiating silent menace. “That storeroom as a little cramped. This seems more fitting for someone of my stature.”

Dean snorted. “You’re the shortest one in this room, man. I don’t know if I’d be talking about stature if I were you.”

Crowley sighed. “There’s more to stature than these meat suits, you know. My true form looks nothing like this insignificant mortal shell.”

“I know,” Cas said flatly, and Dean had to fight back the urge to go to him, to touch him. “Don’t tempt me to demonstrate mine.”

“It speaks!” Crowley said, widening his eyes. “And here I thought the Winchesters had you on a nice, tight leash. Heel, doggy!”

Cas rolled his eyes, turning toward Sam. “What still needs to be done?”

“We have the blood,” Sam said. “We still need to draw all the sigils and then we can get started.”

“This again?” Crowley raised his eyebrows. “I’d have thought you boys had learned some new tricks by now. Or is Moose actually going to go through with it this time, instead of wussing out?”

“Don’t you worry your ugly little head about it,” Dean said, checking the restraints one more time and making sure the devil’s trap inlaid into the floor was still intact (steel wire embedded in concrete; no dripping water could wear this one away) before stepping away. “All you’ve gotta do is sit there.”

He picked up the paint and brushes from where they were sitting against the wall and handed one to Sam and Cas before taking one for himself. They each picked a corner and started to paint over the chalked lines on the concrete floor, ignoring Crowley’s increasingly loud sighs.

“And now I know what it’s like to literally watch paint dry,” the demon finally announced, slumping down further in his chair and watching Sam, the only one in his line of sight, balefully. “Honestly, Moose, just hurry up and do whatever useless ritual you’re planning to do, so we can stop at the last minute when you decide you can’t sacrifice yourself, or big brother decides for you. At least it’ll be more interesting than this.”

“Soon,” Sam said, not looking up from the line he was carefully painting in.

Crowley huffed out another sigh, and another. Finally, Dean put his brush back in the paint can and went to find the old boombox he’d picked up at a thrift store and his box of cassette tapes They finished painting the sigils with“Houses of the Holy” blaring loudly enough to cover any additional commentary from the demon.

* * *

The sigils were painted, brass bowls placed at three equidistant points around the circle and filled with carefully measured mixtures of herbs. Claire and Sam were kneeling next to two of the bowls, waiting to begin.

Dean stepped up to the chair and held up the syringe, unable to hold back his smirk. “This might sting a little bit.”

“Just do it,” Crowley snarled, “so I don’t have to listen to you yammering on any longer.”

Dean stabbed the needle into the demon’s neck and pressed the plunger home, waiting a minute before pulling it free and taking it carefully out of the ritual circle. He returned to sit behind the bowl on the north side of the room. 

“I don’t know what you think is going to happen here,” Crowley groused. “Draining Moose almost to death last time wasn’t enough blood to ‘cure’ me, so that piddly little bit isn’t going to do jack shit.”

“Hush,” Cas said, stepping into the middle of the circle, his voice ringing with authority. He must have done something else, because Crowley’s mouth snapped shut and didn’t open again, despite facial expressions that indicated he was trying.

“Ready?” Claire asked, looking at each of the three men in turn.

All three of them nodded back when they met her eyes. She lifted the knife next to her bowl, watching out of the corners of her eyes as Sam and Dean mirrored her. 

“Let’s get started,” she said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're getting really close to the end! Still so many thanks for the lovely comments, for the kudos, for subscribing!


	17. Remember

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The ritual.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Extra thanks to PinkPandoraFrog, my beta, for her work on this chapter; without her it would be much denser and harder to read!

Cas watched as Sam, Dean, and Claire set the blades to their forearms, shallow slices that let the blood drip down into the brass bowls. They started to chant, voices rising and falling in unison. The words faded from his awareness as the power building in the circle grew, rising with every chanted syllable, every drop of blood striking the brass bowls, every curl of smoke rising from the carefully mixed herbs. It spun around the circle, the power magnified each time it passed through one of the three points, a glowing ring in his mind’s eye. 

It called to his Grace and, deeper still, to the archangel’s power within him. It almost frightened him how easy it was to set aside Cas, who chose to live and love with his human family, and become Castiel the archangel. In this form he was as much a vessel for the power as any human who invited an angel or demon in, with only the barest sliver of control. But in this moment there was no time for fear, no room for second-guessing. The ritual energy crested and flowed inward to the center of the circle, focused and amplified by the painted sigils as it poured into him, filling him until he felt like he might burst. 

He could feel the chanting more than hear it now, a steady pulse in the power running like lightning in his veins. It rose steadily, faster now, pounding in his ears and his fingertips and the curve of his wings, finally reaching a peak. Castiel reached out, moving slowly and carefully as though he could keep the power from spilling out, and set his hands on either side of Crowley's head.

It would have been so easy to just let the power flow free, to scourge the demon with the cleansing fire brimming inside him, to burn him out of his mortal vessel and out of existence. But he held it back, only using the barest touch to find the complex webs of power binding Crowley to each demon in existence, hundreds of thousands of tortured, eternally damned souls. The energy spread eagerly, threading through the bonds, jumping from one demon to the next until Castiel was sure he’d found all of them, the power humming like a closed circuit through the connections. 

He took one last, selfish moment to reach out through the power to Dean and Claire and Sam, a wordless goodbye ringing down the bonds between the four of them, just in case, before he began the real work.

There was human blood in Crowley’s veins. Purified blood. Cleansed. Glowing with a fainter version of the light of his Grace, the same inimitable spark that their creator had given each of them, and somewhere, deep in the demon’s soul, it woke an answering spark. Castiel took the energy still filling him and built a bridge between those two, the one as the pattern for the other.

_ Remember,  _ he commanded, silently opening himself up, a channel for the power that was slowly pulling the shattered pieces of Crowley’s soul back together.  _ Before the torture and the pain, before you were tricked or fell or walked eagerly into evil’s clutches. Once you were a child of God, with a soul bound for Heaven. Once you were a light in the darkness.  _ **_Remember!_ **

Crowley arched back in his chair, his eyes, rolling back in his head, his mouth opened in a silent scream, but Castiel was only barely aware of what was happening on the physical plane, all his attention turning inward to the real battlefield.

He watched as the power burned away the layers of darkness on the demon’s soul, as the light within shone brighter and brighter with each passing moment, glowing in the cracks where the pieces were fitting themselves into place. If he had been using human eyes, he would have had to squint against that growing brightness, the image forever burned into his sight. 

The last piece slotted into place with an almost audible click. The light glowed even brighter, exploding outward in a silent supernova, but one that brought life instead of destruction. With each soul touched the process was faster, like the power learned what to do each time. It poured out of Castiel like water, knitting together the broken souls of every demon in existence until what had been a dark, tainted network shone like a web of stars, each soul glowing bright and pure.

“What…” Crowley groaned, opening his eyes. “What did you do to me? To us?”

“I healed you,” Castiel said gently, unable to be otherwise in the face of the terror he saw in the demon--former demon’s eyes. He let his hands fall away, his vessel feeling more like an ill-fitting suit than it had in years.

Crowley shook his head a little wildly. “The things I did, the things we all did--can it be forgiven?”

Castiel hesitated, frowning. He knew the answer he would once have given, absolute and confident in his righteousness. Living in the human world, living as a human, made things...murky, shades of gray instead of the glorious clarity of black and white. 

He lifted his eyes and met Dean’s gaze from across the room, and he knew the answer. “Anything can be forgiven,” he said gently, remembering Dean’s bruised and tarnished soul trapped in the Pit, frayed at the edges, tattered and torn, but still somehow shining in the darkness. “The things that you did in your pain, they aren’t the end.”

“I… I can’t,” Crowley said, tears tracking down his face, and Castiel could feel the agreement resonating through the other souls still connected to his. “I can’t live with this. Remembering all of the things I did, everyone I hurt, tortured, killed? I can’t. I can’t.”

“Shhh,” Castiel soothed, lifting his fingers to press between the man’s eyebrows. “You don’t have to. It’s time to go home.”

Crowley’s eyes slid closed, his face relaxing in relief, and his soul, glowing pure and bright once again, circled the room for a moment before rising upward. Castiel followed the fading bonds to the others, each soul freed from its vessel another drain on the tiny amount of power that remained. He pushed on, rushing down the branching connections, feeling his attention split and split again as he tried, tried, tried to reach every shining star, to cut them loose from the darkness trapping them, to let them finally fly free.

In the end, there was only darkness.

* * *

“Cas?” Dean lunged across the circle as the angel started to slump to the floor, vaguely aware of Sam and Claire both doing the same. He got there first though, just in time to catch Cas’s head and keep it from cracking on the concrete floor. Sam and Claire were bare seconds behind him, Sam pressing his fingers to Cas’s neck to check for a pulse. Claire helped Dean pull Cas’s head into his lap and arrange him in what would probably be a more comfortable position for when (when, goddamnit, not if) he finally woke.

“He’s breathing,” Claire said, pressing up against Dean’s back and wrapping her arms around his chest. “He’s breathing, Dean.”

Dean forced himself to stop spiralling into a panic and look. Sure enough, Cas’s chest was rising and falling. Just a tiny motion, but enough to pull Dean back from the edge, especially when he moved a hand to rest on Cas’s chest so he could feel the shallow movement against his skin.

“There’s a pulse,” Sam said gently. “He’s gonna be okay.”

Dean nodded, pushing down the knowledge that there was no guarantee of that, that the vessel could still be breathing without Cas’s spirit inhabiting it, that he might never actually feel that gentle warmth again. 

“He’s gonna be okay,” Dean repeated, willing himself to believe it.  _ Come back to me, Cas, _ he half thought, half prayed.  _ I don’t care how. Just come back. _

* * *

Sam pushed the bedroom door open. “You guys need to see this.”

“Later,” Dean said shortly, not moving from his chair next to the bed, holding Cas’s hand.

Claire opened her mouth as if to say something, but Sam shook his head at her, his lips pressed together in a thin line. She closed her mouth again without speaking and followed him out with one last look behind her, down the hall, into the war room, and up the stairs to the bunker door. 

“What--” she cut off abruptly as she saw the sky outside. Like a meteor shower in reverse, like the night the angels fell turned on its head, hundreds of thousands of bright, glowing stars flowing upward. They danced and swirled around each other as they rose, leaving trails of light in their wake.

“Did it work?” Mandy asked, leaning against the brick wall to the right of the door. 

Claire nodded slowly. “I think so. Cas isn’t awake to tell us for sure, but I think those are the souls of all the demons.”

Her sister looked back up. “They don’t look like demons.”

“They aren’t,” Sam said, wrapping his arm around Claire’s shoulders and pulling her close to his side. “Not anymore. They’re just the humans they were before they got tortured into becoming demons, on their way to Heaven.”

Mandy let out a put-upon sigh. “You know, you guys are making it really hard for me to be an atheist.”

Sam smiled at her. “Oh, God exists. But he’s kind of a dick.”

“Okay,” she said after thinking for awhile. “That I can believe.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My apologies about the lateness of posting; I spent about 5 hours wrestling with lawn work and cursing myself for buying a house. Two more chapters to go!!!


	18. Normal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the ritual, things slowly get back to normal. Or what passes for it, anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for extra schmoopy feelings and Cas being a really bad liar.

Awareness returned in slow, gradual stages, one sense at a time. Touch came first, feeling the softness of sheets against his skin, the warmth of a hand holding his, cool air moving softly against his face. Then taste, a sour dryness in his mouth and the faintest coppery taste coating his tongue. The slightly musty smell of the bunker filled his nose, overlaid with the lemon-scented cleaning products that Dean liked to use. 

_ Dean. _ His brain finally focused enough to make sense of the sounds he was hearing, the words being spoken in that oh-so-familiar voice, raspy as if from overuse.

“--can’t believe you’re doing this to me, man. C’mon, Cas. Don’t leave us. Don’t leave  _ me. _ Not now. Who’s gonna keep Claire safe the next time some asshole wants his own pet prophet? Who’s gonna keep me and Sammy from killing each other? And Claire’s got her sister here now; they’re gonna outnumber us if you’re not here. Okay, fine, it’ll be two of them and two of us, but let’s be real, Claire outnumbers us all by herself if she puts her mind to it. And her sister is just fucking like her, I swear. Sam and I aren’t gonna stand a chance. So you’ve gotta wake up, okay? Because I’m not leaving until you do.”

Cas tried to open his eyes, but they refused to obey. Dean remained silent for more than enough time to take a breath, and he suddenly realized that without sight he couldn’t know if Dean was still there, still waiting for him. Panicking, he tried to move his hand, to feel for Dean, but he couldn’t; it was still caught in an implacable grip.

“Cas?” Dean said, his voice closer. “Cas, can you hear me? If you can hear me, squeeze my hand, okay?”

Cas squeezed, tightening his grip enough that Dean yelped before he could temper his strength. Dean’s other hand touched his face, thumb stroking over his cheekbone, and Cas felt himself calming. 

“Okay,” Dean said, his voice thick with something Cas didn’t quite recognize. “Okay, Cas, it’s okay. I’m here, you’re safe. It’s fine. Can you open your eyes for me?”

Cas tried again, focusing every ounce of will on the muscles controlling his eyelids. He felt them twitch and flutter and finally, slowly open. At first it was so overwhelmingly bright that he squeezed them shut and then opened them again, even slower. Dim, fuzzy shapes came slowly into focus, but all he could see was Dean, his freckled skin pale in what was actually very dim light, green eyes shining with unshed tears.

“Hey,” Dean said, his voice breaking halfway through the word. 

“Hey,” Cas replied, or tried to. What actually came back was more of a croaking noise, so he cleared his throat and tried again. “Hello, Dean.”

Dean’s face crumpled a little bit, his forehead furrowing. He pressed his lips together like he was trying not to cry, but the tears spilled down his cheeks anyway. It took two tries, but Cas managed to lift his free hand as Dean slid to his knees beside the bed and buried his face in the blanket. Cas moved his hand in what he hoped were soothing circles through the short hairs, feeling Dean shudder and sob under his touch, and waited for him to calm.

“Come here,” Cas ordered when Dean finally raised his head, his eyes wet and red. “You’re too far away.”

Dean obeyed without question, climbing up onto the bed and settling on his side next to Cas, leaving a careful distance between them. Cas huffed out an annoyed sigh and pulled him closer, needing the warmth and contact of another body, of Dean’s body, to assure himself that all of this was real and not some dream or hallucination. Dean came willingly enough, pillowing his head on Cas’s shoulder and stretching an arm across his stomach. 

“We thought--” Dean corrected himself, “I thought you weren’t going to wake up. You were breathing, but we couldn’t tell you were still in there or if it was just the vessel, still going.”

Cas felt his throat constrict, and it took a moment for him to be able to speak. “I’m sorry.”

Dean shook his head. “Not your fault, man. Just--I’m glad you’re here. Now.”

“I’m glad, too,” Cas said, and it was the most natural thing in the world to turn his head and brush a kiss over Dean’s hair. “I don’t fear death, but…”

“Yeah,” Dean agreed, his voice muffled against the soft cotton covering Cas’s chest. Cas looked down and saw that he was wearing one of Dean’s shirts--”Aerosmith,” the upside-down letters read. The fabric was thin from wear and countless washes, comforting against his skin, and still smelled faintly of the scent that said “Dean” to him.

“It’s my lucky shirt,” Dean said when he saw Cas looking, but he wouldn’t meet Cas’s eyes. “I figured it couldn’t hurt, right?”

Cas smiled. “Right.”

* * *

“Why can’t I go to high school like a normal kid?” Mandy whined.

Sam hid his smile behind his coffee cup as Claire closed her eyes and took a deep breath, inhaling and exhaling slowly before opening them.

“Because,” she said, through teeth that were definitely not gritted, “you’d be bored out of your skull. You can’t tell me that you weren’t already doing some college work before you ran away.”

Mandy pouted. “Fine,” she muttered.

Claire smirked triumphantly at her. 

“Normal’s overrated,” Dean put in from his place at the stove. He gave the pan a few experimental shakes before flipping the pancakes into the air and catching them neatly again. 

Claire sat down next to her sister, slinging an arm around her shoulders. “You’re not 18 for another eight months, honey. I could forge the paperwork, or we could start trying to get me legal custody, but either way Mom and Dad would know where you are.”

None of them missed the shiver that shook Mandy’s body. Claire rubbed soothing circles on the girl’s arm and Sam, Dean, and Cas exchanged meaningful looks. 

“So anyway,” Claire said after a few minutes, “You can start working on college credits online while you think about what you might want to major in.”

“I…” Mandy’s voice trailed off. “I hadn’t really ever thought about it.”

“You used to say you wanted to be a dog trainer,” Claire teased.

Mandy rolled her eyes. “Yeah, when I was eight.”

“Don’t worry,” Sam put in. “You’ve got time to figure it out.”

“Not too much time, though,” Dean added, bringing the platter of pancakes to the table. “Let’s be clear about this right now. You’re not going to be still mooching off us when you’re 30.”

“Says the guy who’s never held down an actual job in his entire life,” Mandy shot back, then flinched, pulling into herself until she seemed to be half of the size she was before.

Dean just grinned at her, pretending not to notice. “Listen up, missy,” he said, affecting an over-the-top voice. “While you’re under my roof--”

“That we stole,” Sam interrupted, taking a slice of bacon and passing the plate to Cas.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Dean mock-protested. “It’s not really stealing if it was abandoned. Besides, we practically inherited it. We were supposed to be Men of Letters. It’s our heritage! Our legacy!”

Mandy sighed dramatically, but the corners of her mouth were turned up just slightly and she reached in front of Claire to grab the bacon before Dean could. “Yeah, yeah. Whatever you say, old man.”

Dean shook his head. “This younger generation. No respect. After breakfast, kid. You, me, Smash Brothers. For the title.”

Mandy grinned at him, the shadows completely gone from her eyes. “You’re on, Grandpa. Prepare to get owned.”

* * *

“Hey,” Claire said, looking up from her book as Cas walked into the bedroom. “Everything okay?”

“Of course,” he answered, a shade too quickly. “Everything is fine. I was just...helping Dean wash the car. Yes. In the garage.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. He avoided her gaze, intently studying the pattern on the rug instead. The tension in the room stretched uncomfortably, thick with secrets. 

Cas almost broke first, opening his mouth to confess whatever had him feeling so guilty, but Dean and Sam clattered into the bedroom, breaking the spell and already starting to undress.

“Hey, man,” Dean said, clapping Cas on the shoulder as he walked by. “Back already?”

Cas’s eyes widened. For a moment he looked braced for flight, then his shoulders slumped and he sat down on the foot of the bed, still not meeting Claire’s eyes. 

“Yeah, Cas,” she said slowly, setting her book down and crossing her arms. “Back already? From the garage? Where you were helping Dean wash the car?”

Dean froze for a second, a flash of guilt in his eyes. He continued unbuttoning his shirt, dropping it to the floor before shucking out of his t-shirt. “You didn’t tell her?”

“No, Dean,” Cas rolled his eyes “Clearly I didn’t tell her.”

“Hey, not my fault,” Dean protested. “If you want me to back you up in a lie, you’ve gotta tell me about it! I can’t read your mind just because you can read mine.”

Claire cleared her throat and both men turned as one to look at her. “Tell me what?” she asked, keeping her voice low and even with an effort of will.

Now there were two men avoiding her gaze. Cas was examining the ceiling for structural issues and Dean had taken over checking the carpet for lost items.

“Cas paid your parents a visit,” Sam finally said, breaking the silence as he finished undressing and slipped under the blankets in his boxers. “Put the fear of God in them.”

Claire closed her eyes and breathed deeply for a count of ten. It didn’t actually help much. She opened them again. “And none of you thought that maybe I should know this?”

Silence reigned again, heavy with unspoken words. 

Claire looked up when Cas sat on the bed next to her, taking her hands in his. “I’m sorry,” he said simply. “We should-- _ I _ should have told you. But we love Mandy, not just for your sake, but for hers. We want her to be safe.”

She frowned. “I know you do. I do, too. But you guys can’t just make unilateral decisions without talking to me. That’s not how this works.”

Sam sat down on her other side, wrapping his arm around her waist. “You’re right. I’m sorry, too, baby.”

“Me, too,” Dean said, joining Cas and resting his hand on top of theirs. “But they’re your parents. You shouldn’t have to send someone to threaten your parents.”

“They forfeited that right when they hurt my baby,” she said, her voice shaking a little, but she didn’t cry. Not until Sam pulled her closer, and Dean kissed her cheek, and Cas squeezed her hands.

“Were they scared?” she asked later, after she’d finally stopped crying. Her eyes were hot and itchy and she ached all over.

“Your father pissed himself,” Cas said, satisfaction echoing in his tone. “It’s a good thing I don’t have my archangel powers any longer or he might have had a heart attack.”

She nodded, snuggling down into the bed with her men. “Good.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more chapter to go! That's the smutty epilogue, so if it's not your thing, feel free to skip. Thanks for coming along with me on this journey!!!


	19. What You Feel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Claire and her boys finally get some alone time.
> 
> Or, the smutty epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No, really, so much sex. Probably not the best chapter to read at work unless you're confident in your poker face and that no one can see over your shoulder

Claire squirmed on Sam’s lap as he kissed the side of her neck, his lips opening to let his teeth lightly graze the thin skin, his cock half-hard under her ass. “Stop it,” she whispered, too aware of her sister sitting cross-legged on the floor not five feet away. Mandy seemed entirely engrossed in destroying Dean and Cas at Mario Kart, but Claire still couldn’t bring herself to be comfortable with much more than kissing in front of her.

“That’s it, I’m out,” Mandy announced as the race ended with her in first place, Cas in second, Dean firmly last. She tossed her controller gently onto the couch and unfolded herself from her seat on the flor. “Time to quit while I’m still on top.”

“Aww, c’mon,” Dean mock-pouted at her.  “You gotta give me a chance to win at least once.”

She shook her head at him. “No way. We’d be here all night, and there’s only so much I can ignore when Sam starts getting handsy. I’m gonna go to my nice, mostly soundproof room at the other end of the bunker, put on some headphones, and listen to some really loud music. You guys do what you feel. Preferably somewhere I’m not likely to walk in on you.”

Silence reigned as she disappeared down the hall, until Cas remarked, “I wasn’t aware Claire’s skin could turn that color. Does it go all the way down?”

“Only one way to find out,” Dean said, standing and offering her his hands. She took them and he pulled her upright, catching her against his chest when she stumbled a little. “Let’s go.”

They didn’t speak as they walked down the hall, Dean leading her by the hand he still held, Sam and Cas following behind them. Even the silence was charged, though, electric with anticipation. She felt the hairs on the back of her neck standing up, as though she could feel their movements without seeing them.

As soon as they were inside their room Dean pushed her up against the wall, kissing her fiercely. She relaxed into his hold, savoring the sensation of being trapped between him and the wall. His hands were in her hair, his tongue licking into her mouth like he couldn’t bear not being inside her for a second longer.

When he finally, reluctantly lifted his head they were both breathing heavily. She expected… well, she wasn’t entirely sure what she expected, because all of her men were forever finding new ways to surprise her. But whatever it was, she expected it to be hard and fast and frantic so it was surprising when Dean dropped his forehead to hers and just stood there for a moment, breathing the same air and holding her close.

“I love you,” he said finally. He leaned back in to kiss her again, softer, sweeter, pulling her gently away from the wall. Dean’s hands cradled her face as Sam moved in behind her, his lips on the side of her neck.

Sam’s hands were on her too, sliding up her sides and pushing her shirt up under her arms. He paused there, his fingers curling against the sides of her breasts until Dean pulled back enough that he could pull her shirt off over her head as Cas did the same for Dean.

Sam wasted no time unhooking her bra, his fingers deft on the clasp. She sighed in relief as it fell away, then again as Dean dropped to his knees in front of her, lifting each breast and pressing his lips to the red marks left by the underwire. Cas leaned over him, his hands on Dean’s shoulders for balance, and kissed her, licking possessively inside her mouth.

“We need you, baby,” Sam murmured in her ear as Cas released her mouth. “Need this. Need to know we’re here, together, safe.”

She nodded wordlessly, shivering against him. Dean grinned up at her, his eyes dark and intent. He hooked his thumbs in the waistband of her yoga pants, pulling them down to drop carelessly on the floor. He pressed a hot, open-mouthed kiss to the skin of her belly, just above her navel, then another, a few inches higher, then another and another, an agonizing trail upward until he was standing, his mouth was pressed between her breasts. 

Sam’s hands slid around her rib cage and under her breasts, lifting them, offering them to Dean. Claire felt herself shiver, become just that little bit more pliant in his arms as Dean accepted the invitation. He leaned down to swipe his tongue teasingly around first one nipple, then the other, before straightening.

“Gonna hurt my neck,” he explained, drawing her toward the bed. “C’mon, sweetheart. Lie down for us.”

Sam settled beside her on the bed, kissing her, and Dean followed her down, licking at her right nipple as he teased the left with his thumb. She moaned into the kiss, her back arching as his nail flicked across her nipple, a sudden sharp sensation that zinged straight to her clit. Sam caught her lip between his teeth for just a second as he pulled back, then started kissing his way to the sensitive spot under her ear. She could feel her hips moving, lifting helplessly into empty air, searching for any kind of friction.

Claire opened her eyes to find Cas watching them from the foot of the bed, his blue eyes blazing as he stared at where Dean’s mouth was on her skin. “Cas,” she breathed, reaching out a hand to him.

He lifted his gaze to hers, hesitating for a moment. With Dean on her left and Sam on her right, the only place for him to go was to move directly between her legs. She sighed in relief as his weight settled on top of her, pinning her to the bed. 

Dean lifted his head and turned to kiss Cas with none of his former hesitation. Cas gave as good as he got, his hands unerringly fisting in the just-long-enough strands of hair at the back of Dean’s head as he took control of the kiss. When they broke apart, mouths wet and red, and turned their attention back to Claire, she shivered a little under their almost predatory regard.

“You know,” Dean said slowly. “One time she came just from me playing with her tits.”

Cas arched a brow. “Really?”

“Yeah. It was fucking gorgeous.” Dean paused as if in thought. “I bet it would go even faster with two of us.”

“Let’s find out,” Cas said.

That was all the warning she got before they were both on her, two warm, wet mouths closing over her nipples only seconds apart. She gasped in a breath, almost sobbing as Cas shifted slightly so that he was straddling her leg. His weight still pinned her to the bed, but she couldn’t get any friction on her clit or her pussy, no matter how hard she tried. Nothing but the relentless touch of lips and teeth and tongues on her breasts, driving her higher and higher.

“I can’t,” she babbled, the tension winding tighter and tighter. “I can’t--I need--please--I can’t.”

“You can,” Sam said in her ear, “You will. Come for us, baby.”

For a few seconds she still hovered, balanced on the edge between too much and not enough. Sam clenched his hand in her hair, pulling just enough that it felt like sparks dancing across her skin.

“You don’t get to decide,” he said roughly. “We do. Come for us.”

Cas bit down lightly on one nipple, Dean swirled his tongue around the other, Sam pulled just a little harder on her hair and caught her earlobe between his teeth. Claire’s breath caught on a sob as she came, helpless under their onslaught. 

“Too much, too much,” she gasped, tugging ineffectually at Dean and Cas until they released her nipples. She shivered as they pressed soft kisses to the slopes of her breasts, moving slowly up her chest until they reached the tender, sensitive sides of her neck. The soft drag of lips and tongues over her sensitized skin was almost too much to take. She shuddered under them, the weight of their bodies on her a welcome anchor.

A hand stroked down her stomach, teased over her clit, spread her wide and slipped a finger inside her pussy. She arched up off the bed with a moan as he added another, two thick fingers stretching her wide.

“That’s it, sweetheart,” Dean breathed against her skin.

“Yes,” Cas agreed from the other side, his voice rough in a way she hadn’t heard in a long time. “Do you know what we’re going to do, Claire? How we’re going to fuck you?”

She shook her head helplessly, her hair rustling against the pillow. She moaned louder as someone--Cas?--curled his fingers inside her, unerringly rubbing over her g-spot.

Cas’s lips cirved against her neck. “First, Dean’s going to fuck you,” he said, his casual tone a stark contrast to the hard line of his cock against her leg. “Sam’s going to get you ready while he does, and I’m going to get Dean ready.”

“Ready--oh, fuck.” Claire gasped as another hand slid down her stomach to rub her clit. “Ready for what?”

“Ready for us to fuck,” Cas said. 

It was Dean who moaned this time, like it was punched out of him. “Jesus fuck,” he breathed, dropping his forehead to Claire’s shoulder.

“And when you’re both ready,” Cas continued, as relentless as his fingers inside of her, “Sam and Dean are going to fuck you, and I’m going to fuck Dean. Do you think he’ll like that as much as you do? Being trapped between us?”

Dean groaned, a short, broken sound, his breath coming in sobbing gasps against her collarbone. Claire curled her hand around the back of his neck, not sure if she was trying to anchor him or herself with the touch, just as Cas leaned down and sucked her nipple into his mouth. She came helplessly, her eyes sliding closed, her nails digging into Dean’s skin.

She whined a little when she felt their weight moving off of her, but there were still hands on her skin, soothing her, turning her to lie on her side. She felt someone moving between her legs, her top leg lifted to rest against a muscular shoulder as weight settled onto her lower leg, the blunt pressure of a cock against her pussy. She opened her eyes just in time to watch Dean’s face as he pushed slowly inside, hard and hot and thick and perfect. 

“So fucking gorgeous,” Sam murmured, smoothing his hand down her back and over the curve of her ass, stroking back up her inner thigh. His fingertip skated slowly up her perineum until it was teasing slickly over her hole, until she was shivering and shaking between them and not too far from begging. “Love watching you like this, baby.”

Dean sucked in a breath above her, thrusting jerkily into her, and she knew instantly what had happened. He was feeling the same pressure she was, the same struggle to relax and let someone else inside his body. Cas kissed the side of his neck, murmuring quietly in his ear, so softly that she could only catch the occasional coaxing word. Then Sam’s fingertip slipped inside the tight ring of muscle and all she could do was breathe and surrender, opening to him, to them.

The four of them gradually found their rhythm, Sam and Cas working in tandem, Dean and Claire rocked between them for what felt like hours. Her world narrowed to their points of contact; Sam’s mouth on her shoulder and his fingers in her ass, Dean’s cock in her pussy and his hand around her ankle, Cas’s leg brushing against hers as he prepped Dean.

“Please,” she begged, the words spilling out of her mouth before she knew they were coming. “Please, Sam, I’m ready, please, please…”

She felt his lips curve as he pressed them to her neck. “What do you think, Cas? Are they ready?”

Cas hummed consideringly, his hand moving, Dean stiffening like he’d been shocked. “Fuck! Cas, yes, fuck, I’m ready--”

“That’s not very polite, Dean” Cas said reprovingly, withdrawing from where he’d been all but draped over Dean’s back. 

Dean whimpered, trying to follow the other man as he moved backwards. “Please, Cas, please--”

“Shh,” Cas soothed him, holding him in place. “It’s all right. We’re going to have to move, Claire.”

She nodded, more because he’d said her name than because she was tracking well enough to understand what he’d said. The next minute, Dean was pulling out of her, a sudden emptiness that had her reaching for him on instinct as he and Cas urged her up until she was straddling Sam where he sat against the headboard, her back to his chest, the head of his cock pressing lightly against her ass.

“Go as slow as you need to, baby,” Sam said, his fingers flexing where they curved around her waist. “I’ve got you.”

Claire took a deep breath and bore down, relaxing her ass and letting gravity help until she felt the head of his cock slide inside, her moan and his groan echoing around the room in the same instant. She worked him inside slowly until she couldn’t take him any deeper, then sat there shuddering, incredibly full and incredibly empty at the same time.

Dean moved in close enough to kiss her, hot and hungry, like he couldn’t stand to not be kissing her for another second. “So fucking hot, sweetheart,” he breathed, lining himself up and pushing back into her pussy. It was harder this time; she was so full already that she could’ve sworn there was no room there for Dean’s cock. But all three men were touching her, hands and mouths everywhere on her skin and before she knew it Sam and Dean were both buried inside her as deep as they could go. 

Dean pressed his forehead to her shoulder again as Cas leaned in behind him, dropping a kiss on the back of Dean’s neck. She could tell when Cas started pressing inside Dean, because he shivered all over, fucking just a little bit deeper inside her and then back again. Every movement echoed through all of them, resonating, reacting. By the time Cas was all the way in, Claire, Sam, and Dean were all shaking, feeling a shadow of that connection they’d had before, an electricity running through their joined bodies. 

And then Cas moved, withdrawing and thrusting shallowly back in, rocking Dean into Claire. Sam groaned under her, shifting just a little, then finding the rhythm with the next thrust. Claire clung to Dean, unable to do anything but hold on as they surrounded her, fucked her, loved her. 

The familiar warmth of Cas’s power circled her wrists and pulled them gently, inexorably upward, like she was being suspended from an invisible hook in the ceiling. A hot flush rushed through her body, part arousal, part humiliation, as he took the last tiny bit of control from her and left her exposed, unable to resist as they fucked her. She came helplessly, shuddering and screaming with the force of her orgasm and the knowledge of her own powerlessnes

She could feel Cas picking up speed, fucking into Dean, Dean fucking into her, Sam following his lead from the other side like they’d done this for years. They drove her up again relentlessly, not letting her come down even for a second. Through blurred eyes she saw Cas sink his teeth into Dean’s shoulder, watched Dean arch back into Cas, eyes sliding closed as he came. She felt Sam tense under her, fingers digging into her hips. That tiny bite of pain was enough to send her over the edge one more time, writhing between them as she came.

“Fuck,” Sam said several minutes later. The four of them still lay in a tangled pile of bodies, only moving enough to allow breathing or ease aching muscles.

“I thought we already had,” Cas said in his best deadpan. “Was that not sufficient? Should we try again?”

“No!” Dean and Claire yelped in unison, their eyes meeting half in terror, half in arousal. He ceded to her with a shake of his head and she shifted slightly, wincing a little at the twinge in her ass.

“That was really, really good,” she said, her voice slurring a little. “But maybe we save it for special occasions? Anniversaries, birthdays, that kind of thing.”

Cas hummed thoughtfully, scratching his fingers absently through Dean’s hair. “That seems fair. It is quite tricky, logistically speaking.”

“No kidding. Try being in the middle,” Dean muttered, but his eyes were closed and he was practically purring under Cas’s touch.

Cas shrugged. “That can be arranged.”

Dean’s eyes flew open and he sat up a little. “Really?” 

“Of course,” Cas said, his voice completely matter-of-fact. “It would be inequitable otherwise. Besides, I think I would quite enjoy you fucking me. You’d do it exactly like I told you to, wouldn’t you?”

Dean collapsed back onto the bed as Claire completely failed to stifle her giggles. “I’m too old for this shit,” he complained.

Claire cuddled into Sam and let the sound of Dean and Cas’s bickering wash over her like rain on a roof. It meant the same thing, really. 

She was home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's it! Hope you enjoyed the ride; I would love to return to this 'verse someday, but I need to start focusing on some original fiction (she says, staring guiltily at all of the fics she's already started) to see if that can be a road out of my current terrible job situation.
> 
> Thanks to those who have stuck with this fic; I hope you enjoyed it!

**Author's Note:**

> I post mostly MCU stuff these days (okay, it's mostly Chris Evans at this point) but some Supernatural stuff does sometimes slip in there, so if you're interested, you can always [follow me on Tumblr.](http://dizzy-redhead.tumblr.com) I love asks, prompts, and messages of almost any sort (anon hate is the only real exception) so come yell at me there!


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